


There and Back Again, a New Zealand Tale

by Ella_Blue (alice_angel_fic)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Airplane Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Gay Marriage, Gay Sex, M/M, Male Slash, Rimming, Romance, Same-Sex Marriage, Sex Toys, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:12:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3782761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alice_angel_fic/pseuds/Ella_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Zealand has always held a special place in their hearts. It’s where they met and fell in love all those years ago while filming The Lord of the Rings. So when gay marriage is made legal in that country, it’s the perfect opportunity for Viggo and Orlando to return there, to formalize their union, surrounded by their much-loved, oldest and dearest friends.<br/>(contains male/male explicit sex)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this story, we're going to pretend that Orlando has never been married, and never had a child. Viggo on the other hand, was previously married and has his grown up son.
> 
> (Ania Vashchenko - who is briefly mentioned in this chapter is a completely fictitious name)

[ ](http://photobucket.com/)

** CHAPTER ONE **

The opening-night party of Sir Ian McKellen’s new West End play was abuzz with celebrities and luminaries. Photographers and entertainment writers mingled with the showbiz guests. Everybody who was anybody was there, including a few familiar and much loved faces.

Orlando stood to the side of the room, nursing the same drink he’d picked up from the bar half an hour ago. He scanned the crowd slowly, indulging in his favourite hobby – people watching. So far he’d managed to avoid the journalists and only spoken to a few friends and acquaintances that he’d worked with in the past. But noticing the woman with a press badge and a determined expression making a beeline for him, he realized that his luck had just run out. 

“So it’s true then?” she said, sidling up to him like they were old friends. 

He fixed a polite smile on his face and groaned inwardly. He knew her; she was an odious woman, but also the arts editor of a top glossy magazine, the sort of publication that made his agent whoop with joy when Orlando managed to get his name or face splashed across its pages. 

“Rumour has it you’ve been out on the town with Ania Vashchenko?” she phrased the statement as a question, waiting for Orlando to either confirm or deny it. 

He flashed that famous Bloom smile and said only, “Is that so?”

“A little birdy tells me you’ve regularly been spotted sneaking out of her apartment in the early hours. And let’s face it, you are looking rather loved-up these days.” 

Orlando gave her another dazzling smile and a careful arch of his eyebrow. He masked a small short of contempt with a sip of his drink. Looking loved-up, he thought? Looking bloody exhausted and jetlagged is what I am. And who the fuck is Ania Vashchenko he wondered? He’d never met the woman, never snuck out of her apartment, Christ, he’d never even heard of her until now. And why did the damn Press always want to poke their noses into his private life? This journalist was one of the worst for prying into his love life. He would much rather she asked about his work than who he was, or wasn’t, sleeping with. Or better yet, ask him what he thought about Ian’s play. It was the opening night after all. Besides, the reason she had been invited to swan around this party wasn’t to drink the free champagne, but to write about the play and give it the coverage and column space the publicists had paid for. 

“Is it serious, or just a dalliance? Would you care to comment?” she asked, taking a mouthful of her own drink and returning Orlando's look with an arched brow of her own. 

“A gentleman never tells,” Orlando said with a playful wink. 

“We could do an exclusive you know, a photo-spread; the two of you looking cosy in your love-nest. Ania is very much flavour of the month right now, and you Orlando, you’ve always been A-list material.” 

For a moment he was almost tempted to agree, just to see how she would manage to pull it off. It would take seriously big balls to make a feature spread out of two complete strangers in a love-nest that didn’t exist. And even if he denied this so-called rumour, it was clear that this woman thought she’d got her teeth into a juicy story, and he was sure she’d have an article in next week’s issue stating that he’d been spotted at some or other exclusive jeweller, looking at engagement rings. But before he had the chance to respond, Ian swept over and grasped the woman’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a playfully gallant kiss. 

“Deidra darling, you look ravishing as always. I’ve got the most sinful bit of gossip for you. Come, there’s someone you simply must meet.” 

Ian winked at Orlando as he turned the writer away and led her across the room. Orlando mouthed a thank you and blew him a kiss. Happily alone again, he took his phone out of his pocket and Googled Ania Vashchenko’s name. A leggy blonde model from Belarus with impossibly blue eyes, he learned from the search results. She had walked the haute couture runways at New York Fashion Week the previous month. Good to know, Orlando smirked. 

“I thought you liked ‘em tall, dark and dirty?” said the man who was peering over his shoulder at his phone. The deep voice and heavy Yorkshire accent were a blessing to Orlando’s ears. He spun around the flung his arms around Sean’s neck, half tackling, half hugging him. 

“Beanie! You old bugger, I didn’t know you were going to be here.” 

“I never miss a chance to see some of the old gang again,” Sean replied. “What did you think of the play?” 

“Loved it,” Orlando said. “It’ll be a hit, but then everything Ian touches seems to turn to gold.” 

“Lucky for us, eh Elfboy?” Sean chuckled. 

“Sometimes I wish Rings hadn’t been such a success,” Orlando sighed. “I’d kinda like to know what it feels like to be nobody, just going to the pub on a Friday night and the footie on a Saturday, without a horde of paparazzi on my tail.”

“Boring, you’d hate it,” Sean teased. 

“Well I’ll tell you what I _wouldn’t_ hate,” Orlando said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, “I wouldn’t hate being able to be with someone I love without it making international headlines. I’d give anything to be able to walk down the street holding his hand, or to kiss him in public, and not have a single person give a shit about it. Christ, it would even be nice just to sit in the park by myself without seeing a picture of it in tomorrow morning’s paper.” 

“It’s the price we pay for doing what we love kid,” Sean said, wrapping his arm around Orlando’s neck and planting a kiss on the side of his head.

The thing about Sean being so rugged and manly was that he was able to get away with a gesture like that, and have it look like nothing more than masculine camaraderie. Ian on the other hand, was so flamboyantly, openly gay that he could do it too, and make it look rakishly endearing. Orlando, with his pretty-boy looks and his public image firmly pitched towards a female audience, was stuck somewhere in no-mans-land, never able to express friendship or affection without people reading too much into it, and never able to interact with his lover without it drawing a ton of unwanted attention.

“So where is your older wiser, better half?” Sean asked. “Or are you flying solo this evening?” 

“Double booked,” Orland replied with a grimace. “A friend’s gallery opening that he couldn’t get out of. But he said he’d leave there early and get here in time for the after party.”

“This _is_ the after party,” Sean told him. 

“No, the _after_ , after-party,” Orlando winked.

“Ah well… I’ve not been invited to that one,” Sean chuckled. 

“You know you’d be more than welcome Beanie, Ian wouldn’t mind at all.” 

“Be a bit out of my comfort zone, I think,” Sean smiled. “I’ll give it a miss.” 

Everybody knew about Ian’s famous after-parties. Well, at least those in his elite inner circle did. After the media and publicity events were over, Ian threw his own private parties for a handful of invited guests. They were decadent and sexually indulgent affairs, a case of anything goes and the utmost discretion was required. To say they were orgies made them sound vulgar, but in truth, they put the most debauched ancient Roman festivities to shame. Naked boys, glittering in gold body paint, carried trays of drinks. Others served as platters, reclining on tables, with mouth-watering delicacies placed strategically on their bodies for the guests to pick off and eat. At his seventieth birthday party, Ian had filled a Jacuzzi with champagne and had a bevy of naked male beauties cavorting in it, to the delight of his guests. No activity was frowned upon during his parties, and nothing was ever talked about afterwards. Many a clandestine love affair was started at one of Ian’s soirees, and even more abundant one-night-stands were had. It had been at one of Ian’s little get-togethers in New Zealand that Orlando and Viggo had finally consummated their relationship. For weeks Ian had watched them dance around each other on set, until he couldn’t take the sexual tension between them anymore, and decided to give them the not so gentle nudge that they needed. It was a night that neither of them would ever forget and it cemented Ian’s special place in their hearts forever. 

“How have you been my darling boy?” the older, grey haired actor said, coming back to Orlando now. “I haven’t had a chance to have a proper natter with you all evening.” He gave Orlando a rib crushing hug and kissed both cheeks, cupping his face in his hands. Then he turned to Sean. 

“So glad you could make it Sean, it’s been too bloody long since I saw you. I’m having a little thing after this, you’re welcome to attend, but perhaps you’d prefer to catch up over brunch tomorrow instead?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sean replied. “Eleven o’clock suit you?” 

“I’ll book a table at The Ritz, my treat,” Ian said.

With brunch plans made, Sean excused himself and went over to flirt with a blonde woman he’d had his eye on all evening, leaving Ian and Orlando to talk. 

“Tell me honestly, what did you think?” Ian asked, knowing he could trust Orlando’s opinion of his new play. 

“Bloody rubbish. Two hours of my life I’ll never get back,” Orlando told him with a deadpan expression, but the glint of humour in his eyes gave him away. 

“I should put you over my knee and give you a good spanking,” Ian said, his hand sliding down Orland’s back and giving his gym-toned bottom a firm tap. 

“Empty promises,” Orlando grinned, “I’ve been waiting years for you to make good on that threat.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” Ian murmured, his nose nuzzling Orlando’s dark chocolate curls, and his mouth brushing against the younger man’s ear. “Honestly though, what did you think? You know I value your opinion.” 

It was at moments like this that Orlando still had trouble believing his life was real. He still thought of himself as Orli, the awkward, gangly kid from Canterbury. He’d never got used to the way the world saw him as Orlando Bloom, Hollywood hottie and sex symbol. He still had to pinch himself sometimes when he thought of the films he’d been in and the superstars he’d worked with. And not only worked with, but genuinely counted among his friends. Two decades ago, if someone had told him that Sir Ian McKellen, doyenne of theatre and stage, multi award winning screen actor and British national treasure would ask for, and value, his opinion on his work, well frankly Orlando would have laughed at them and shown them his middle finger. 

“I loved it Ian,” he said, being serious now. “It was a magnificent commentary on society’s prejudices. I found the message it conveyed both deeply tragic and optimistically hopeful at the same time. I really hope the audience and critics take the sentiments of the piece to heart.” 

Ian leaned in and kissed Orlando's cheek again but found himself being pried apart from the young actor by a pair of strong, rough-skinned hands. An arm was flung around each of their shoulders and Viggo’s smiling face appeared between their heads. 

“Can’t leave my Elf in your company for more than five minutes without you trying to seduce him, can I?” he scolded, kissing the side of Ian’s face and then Orlando’s. 

Like Sean, Viggo's comfortable masculinity made the gesture seem like nothing more than old friends greeting each other after a long absence. In truth, the media had become so used to the collective cast of The Lord of the Rings physical intimacy and easy familiarity with each other, that nobody took any notice of them anymore. Even after all these years they still held a bond stronger than just friendship. What they had experienced out there in New Zealand for a year and a half, and the three years afterwards, attending the premieres, doing the press junkets and promotions, had been epic. It had created a tightknit family of them. 

“Viggo darling, so thrilled you could make it. And you’re earlier than expected,” Ian beamed. “We must have a catch up chat later, but for now I’ll leave you and your gorgeous boy to your happy reunion.” 

“First I need a drink,” Viggo announced and took Orlando’s almost empty glass from him. “I’ll refresh yours too,” he said, sniffing the contents and recognising the familiar tang of vodka and lime. 

They walked over to the bar together and Viggo ordered a beer for himself and another cocktail for Orlando, then they mingled for a while, Viggo doing the rounds while Orlando hovered nearby, breathing in the spicy, exotic scent of his cologne. He knew Viggo was stretching out the time until they could sit quietly together. It was maddeningly frustrating and thrillingly arousing at the same time. It had been two months since they’d been together; work projects keeping Orlando tied to Los Angeles and Viggo’s art and writing seeing him ensconced in his Spanish hideaway. They were used to long distances and time zones separating them by now. It only added to the preciousness of the moments when they finally found themselves on the same continent at the same time. It made their relationship tricky, but somehow they managed to make it work. In between their erotically charged visits, they talked every day on the phone, even if it meant one of them had to wake up at three in the morning to take the call. They emailed and texted too, but nothing compared to finally waking up in each other’s arms, naked and sticky from a night of lustful passion. 

The last time they had seen each other, Viggo had flown to California to promote an Education Awareness campaign that Orlando was part of too. This time Orlando had flown to London on Ian’s invitation to his new play. Viggo had come over from Spain on the same invitation as well as to attend his friend’s gallery opening. When their obligations were over, they planned to spend a blissful week at Viggo’s Spanish villa, tucked so deep in the mountains and so secluded that it ensured complete privacy. For days Orlando had thought of nothing but making love all night. Of long, lazy morning lie-ins, and naked sunbathing at the sparkling blue pool. He had stayed with Viggo in Spain many times over the length of their relationship which spanned nearly a decade and a half now, and he treasured their time alone at Viggo’s hideaway more than anything. All their time there seemed to be a long, hot blur of sex. Indoors, outdoors, in the pool, in the shower, in the car parked on the hilltop under the stars. Occasionally on the kitchen counter, and often in front of a crackling fire on winter nights, and even once or twice on a secluded beach in the middle of a sultry summer night. The mundane stuff, the everyday chatter, happened long-distance over the phone or via e-mail. It was lonely and miserable sometimes but the reward for it was the mind blowing, soul nourishing, exquisite interludes where they lived breathed and fucked each other into oblivion. 

The first few days of their reunions were always a melting together of hearts and bodies, a reconnecting and rediscovering of each other. Quick, groping sex where they shed only as much clothing as necessary, too eager to devour each other to get fully naked or get anywhere near the bedroom. Those blissful clinches were interspersed with long, slow loving sessions that lasted hours, where they rocked together gently and shared as many words as they did soft caresses. After that, when they’d centred themselves, found their place in the world again and re-established their connection to each other, then it was time to play, time to be inventive and creative. They shared fantasies and played them out. They brought toys into the bedroom and did things with food that would be considered obscene in some conservative societies. The days before parting were always sombre and quiet. Their lovemaking was silent as they tried to look, touch, taste and inhale enough of each other to last until the next time they got together again. 

Now, at Ian’s party with Viggo finally back at his side, Orlando was only thinking of the coming few days. The time when they would have to say goodbye again, he had pushed far out of his mind. 

When enough polite greetings and conversations had taken place, and enough journalists had been spoken to, they found a quiet corner of a sofa to sit on, and mindful of prying eyes and ears, they did their best to look like nothing more than old cast-mates catching up after a long time of leading their separate lives. 

Orlando’s eyes had been wandering over Viggo’s body since he’d arrived. He was dressed in his usual comfortably casual style, in tight fitting jeans and a white shirt under an expensive navy blazer. His dark blond hair was shot with silver and had grown a little since Orlando had last seen him. It covered his ears and touched the collar at the back of his neck. Orlando couldn’t help licking his lips as he watched Viggo pull his fingers thought it, leaving it slightly dishevelled and messy. 

Viggo’s easy laid-back look contrasted nicely with Orlando’s formally tailored suit. His pale silk shirt had a pink pinstripe that you had to be very close to see. The top four buttons were undone, revealing an expansive triangle of smooth, olive toned skin and a glimpse of the necklaces Orlando always wore. One a silver chain, the other a thin leather chord, both hung with charms and pendants he had collected over the years. The most precious of which, Viggo had given to him on the night they had first made love. On his left wrist he wore a sliver watch, another of Viggo’s generous gifts. And on his right, his usual assortment of bracelets, beads and leather thongs were tied around his arm. A collection of rings adorned his fingers but his earlobes were bare. He hadn’t worn earrings in so long that he wasn’t sure if the holes were still open. He would probably have to get them done again for his part in the next Pirates of the Caribbean adventure, which was due to start shooting the next year. 

In anticipation of the role, Orlando had already started to let his hair grow. Another inch or so and it would reach his shoulders. It had still been damp after his shower when he scraped it back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. He knew that Viggo loved him with long hair, and the way Viggo was looking at it now let Orlando know he was imagining pulling it loose and bunching it in his fists. Viggo loved running his fingers through it and tugging on it when they were in bed, almost as much as Orlando loved having his hair pulled during sex. Just the thought of it made him shiver and want to growl softly in Viggo’s ear. 

The music was loud enough to keep softly spoken words private as well as give an excuse to lean in close to one another to be heard over the thumping beat. 

“Did you have a good flight over?” Viggo asked. 

Orlando tilted his head, shrugged his shoulders and looked confused. This charming little act was one that he had perfected over the years. Pretending he couldn’t hear, forcing Viggo to lean closer and press his lips to his ear. He had done it on the red carpet at premiers and in press interviews with the rest of The Lord of The Rings cast. Then as now, Viggo cupped his hand around the side of Orlando’s face, pulling his head closer. Then as now, Viggo whispered obscenely dirty things into his ear. 

“Going to fuck you so hard and so deep later, you’re going to taste my cock at the base of your throat. Going to make you come so hard it’s going to hurt.”

“Flight was good, just _long_ and _hard_ as always.” Orlando replied, smiling innocently, but his emphasis on those two words made Viggo chuckle. He gave Orlando a secret caress behind his ear before he let his hand fall away. 

“How was the gallery opening?” Orlando asked, keeping the topic on safe ground, aware of a gossip columnist on the other end of the couch, leaning a little closer to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

“Very successful,” Viggo replied, reading the warning look in his lover’s eyes. “He’s got some amazing pieces, if you get a chance tomorrow you should go by there and have a look, I think you’ll be very impressed.” 

“I might do that,” Orlando smiled. “I’ve got a few hours to kill before my flight and I’ve got nothing better to do, so I might just go along and check it out.” 

The smirk Viggo gave him sent a shiver straight down his spine and into his cock. His words were for the benefit of the snooping journalist, because he knew that in the morning, far from spending time at an art gallery, he would be on his back with his legs in the air, knees spread as wide as they would go while Viggo fucked him hard enough to make sitting on the flight out pleasantly uncomfortable. Or maybe he’d have Viggo standing at the window of his suite at The Dorchester gazing out over Hyde Park while Orlando, on his knees behind him, licked and prodded his ass with his tongue. He hadn’t decided yet, but he was leaning towards the latter. Nothing could turn Viggo into a quivering wreck faster than a skilful bit of rimming; especially the way Orlando’s talented tongue did it. 

“When can we get out of this place? Viggo asked in a low voice. 

Orlando glanced at his watch. “Give it half an hour, people will start drifting away by then. We can slip out soon after that.” 

He knew that Viggo was feeling as anxious and frustrated as he was. Viggo had been in England all day but he’d been busy helping his friend put the finishing touches to his exhibition. Orlando’s flight from Los Angeles had arrived mid-afternoon leaving him just enough time to check in at his hotel, shower and get a taxi to the Shaftsbury Avenue theatre in time for the start of the play. This was the first time they’d been in physical contact, although Orlando had called him the moment his flight had landed. They were still taxiing to the gate when he dialled Viggo's number.

“Hey beautiful, I was just thinking about you,” Viggo had said as he answered the call. 

“Good thoughts I hope?” Orlando had grinned, thrilled to hear his voice again and tingling with excitement at the thought of seeing him later that evening. 

“I was thinking about your cock,” Viggo had replied, “Thinking about sucking it.”

“Mmmm, I’d like that,” Orlando had said, his face flushing as he sat in his seat, phone to his ear and watched the Terminal buildings glide by the window. 

He’d had that image in his mind all evening and wanted Viggo’s lips wrapped around him as soon as possible. He was itching to touch Viggo, to lean forward and kiss him hello, but in a room full of people and the press, it wasn’t going to happen soon. 

They sat gazing at each other, sexual tension making the air between them crackle. Suddenly, Ian appeared behind the sofa and leaned down to talk to them, bending his head close and speaking in hushed, conspiring tones.

“Oh darlings, I’ve just heard the most delicious news,” he whispered softly. “I must borrow your handsome man for a moment,” he told Orlando as he motioned for Viggo to follow him.

Sitting alone on the couch Orlando found the gossip columnist turning to face him. 

“Sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing,” she began with a smile. 

Overhearing my ass, Orlando thought, your ears were stretched on stalks so far off your head you looked like Shrek. But he smiled convivially.

“The art opening that Viggo was at this evening, was it for his own work? If so, I’d like to write an article on it.”

“It was a friend’s exhibition,” Orlando told her. “But Viggo has plans for a show towards the end of the year I believe,” 

He wasn’t giving away any secrets, Viggo had already posted it on his website and many art world publications had already covered the story. But her next question took him by surprise. So unexpected was it compared to every other question that had been thrust at him all evening that he blinked in disbelief before he came up with the words to answer it. 

“What did you think of Sir Ian’s new play? Would you be willing to give me a quote for my column?” 

Finally, a journalist who was paying attention to the reason she was there and asking the first appropriate question he’d been asked all night. 

Orlando smiled and patted the seat next to him. She scooted up and they chatted for the next twenty minutes about his opinion of the play, his upcoming film work and how he found the theatre world in the UK compared to the USA. Not a single question about his private life passed her lips. Orlando was charmed. 

On the other side of the room, the whoop that came from Viggo’s mouth was loud enough to halt their conversation for a moment. 

“ _Yesss!_ ” 

Orlando looked up and saw Viggo grinning and pumping his fist in the air. Whatever Ian’s delicious news was, it had certainly delighted Viggo too. 

 

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really sure how Adam Lambert ended up in the chapter, except I saw a boy who looked just like him in the grocery store the other day, so he kind of stuck in my head :)

** CHAPTER TWO **

Ian’s news may have delighted Viggo, but it certainly did not delight Orlando.

“You have got to be kidding me!” was what he said when Viggo told him to go ahead to the private after-party without him.

“Trust me Orli,” Viggo replied. 

“Trust doesn’t come into it Vig,” Orlando struggled to keep his voice down. “I’ve flown eleven hours to see you, my body doesn’t know what time zone it’s in, I’m jetlagged, I’m horny and I haven’t even been able to kiss you hello because of all the damn journalist’s eyes on us here. And now you’re telling me to go ahead without you? What was Ian’s big news anyway? How come he’s only sharing it with you?” 

“It’s a surprise,” Viggo said with an apologetic shrug. 

“Better be a bloody good one,” Orlando told him. “You’re going to make this up to me.” 

“You can count on it,” was Viggo’s reply. 

By the way Viggo’s fingers were twitching, Orlando could tell that he was itching to touch him, and the sultry way he licked his lips showed that he was dying for that first tongue-filled kiss as much as Orlando was. He made his way around the room, saying goodnight. Handshakes and back slaps for acquaintances, and quick but affectionate hugs for those he counted as friends. Viggo was the last person he hugged after he’d thanked Ian and congratulated him on the play again.

The old thespian had cupped his face gently and told him, “Don’t be angry that I’ve asked him to stay behind for a bit, my gorgeous boy. We’re a-plotting and a-planning, but I won’t keep him longer than an hour, I promise you,” 

Orlando nodded at Ian’s words, but still flashed an irritated glance at Viggo before he leaned in to hug him. “Don’t be late or you might find me fucking somebody else when you get there,” he warned, only half joking, his lips brushing against Viggo's ear 

“I might get off on watching that,” Viggo replied, his mouth barely moving against Orlando’s hair as he pulled away from the hug. 

The private after-party was at a small exclusive club a few blocks away. The cars that transported the select invited guests pulled into an underground garage on a side street, and they entered the venue via a lift manned by a burly looking bouncer. From what Orlando could tell, Ian had hired the entire club for his little soiree. The woman who greeted him when the lift doors opened was dressed like a strict-looking librarian. Orlando wondered if that was her idea of business attire, or if she expected to be dishing out a bit of discipline later in the evening. Either way, she welcomed him with a pleasant smile and took his jacket, passing it to an assistant who disappeared without a word. 

“I’ll give you a quick tour then I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening. Sir Ian will be here shortly, but if there’s anything you require in the meantime just let me know. My name is Mia.” 

She spoke in a friendly manner, but she never let her gaze linger too long on Orlando’s face, nor did she give any indication that she knew who he was. As with all Ian’s parties, this one was the height of anonymity and discretion. 

Things were already in full swing when she led Orlando around, pointing out the obvious dance floor, and the staircase up the lounge and bar area that overlooked it. The washroom facilities were also up there she told him, and so were the doors to what she referred to as ‘the private rooms’. 

“There’s a sauna and hot tub through there,” she said indicating a door near the elevator. “And there is a fully equipped dungeon and playroom downstairs should you wish to use it. If I can be of any further assistance, please let me know.” With that, she gave his hand a quick, firm shake and walked away to greet the next set of arrivals who were stepping out of the elevator. 

Orlando was impressed. Ian seldom disappointed, and tonight was no exception. He went up to the lounge and ordered a drink at the bar, then stood at the rail and looked down onto the dance floor. He estimated there were about forty guests, all of them male with the exception of four women who appeared to be two couples. One of the women he recognised as a well-known artist, she’d just had a solo exhibition at The Tate and her sexual preferences were no secret so he was not surprised to see her here. But the other couple left him staring with wide eyes as they climbed the steps hand in hand. They appeared slightly hot and sweaty from the dance floor, or perhaps some other more intimate activity judging by the disarray of their clothing. One of them was an actress Orlando knew very well, although he had never worked directly with her, he had met her many times at Hollywood parties and industry events. Her prolific film career was long and varied, she’d been nominated for many awards and collected a clutch of them. He did not recognise her partner. She smiled at him and winked as they approached and Orlando raised his glass in greeting. 

“Won’t this be a fun topic of conversation the next time we meet on the red carpet,” she smiled as she breezed past and headed for the bar.

“Won’t it indeed,” Orlando agreed. 

Looking back to the dance floor he recognized most of the men gyrating to the thumping beat. He’d either worked with them, or met them at parties and events. Only a very few were out and openly gay, most of the revellers were still closeted, and more than a few of them had trophy wives on their arms when they stepped out in public. He couldn’t help smiling at the thought of what the journalists from earlier would give to get a look at this lot. 

With alcohol flowing and the freedom of being able to cavort to their heart’s content many of them had lost their inhibitions. More than just a few collars and ties had been loosened already. Men were kissing and embracing as they danced, shirts had been unbuttoned, and some removed completely. Hips were grinding against groins in time to the music, palms caressed naked chests, fingers pinched at nipples. Wet, tongue-filled kisses were being shared as hands delved into the waistbands of trousers. One lucky fellow was even having his cock sucked against a pillar on the far side of the dance floor. The scene was hot and erotic, and as Orlando’s eyes adjusted to the dim light he started to notice interesting little details all around him. The artwork on the walls depicted beautiful, naked men in erotic poses. Some reclining languidly against each other, others indulging in sensual acts of intimacy. 

Young men, too pretty to be called handsome, and clad in skimpy loincloths moved gracefully through the crowd carrying trays of drinks and offering platters of canapés. Their oiled bodies glistened in the soft lighting, their chests, arms and legs devoid of hair. Orlando assumed that everything currently hidden by the loincloths had been subjected to a shave or waxing treatment too. He knew enough about Ian’s parties to know that he’d have the answer to that question before the end of the evening. While the ‘attendants’ as Ian called them, started out the evening with their modestly preserved, by the end of it they would be performing their duties in the nude, and the guests would be free to look and touch, provided that the caresses were welcomed by the boy receiving them. Anything of a more intimate nature would take place behind the doors of the private rooms, and would have to be negotiated between the attendant and his guest. 

But that rule only applied to the attendants, the rest of the guests were encouraged to cavort with each other publically if they wished. And many did. Orlando had seen things at these little get-togethers of Ian’s that could blow many a Hollywood career out of the water, including his own. But the things he’d got up to during these evenings had always been with Viggo, and only ever when they were sure that they were in trusted and impeccably discreet company. 

Casting his eyes more carefully over his surroundings he noticed that dotted around on the tables between the scented candles and vases of artfully arranged flowers, were crystal bowls of foil wrapped condoms and small sachets of lube. Always the perfect host, Ian had catered for every need. On the end of the bar counter he noticed a wicker basket brimming with small dark glass vials. He didn’t need a closer look to know that they were bottles of Poppers. And by the sounds coming from the shadows somewhere behind him, Orlando guessed that the offerings were already being put to good use. 

He glanced over his shoulder to the sofa in the far corner and made out the form of two men, naked and in the throes of some pretty wild looking sex. He couldn’t see who they were, their faces were in the shadows but they were certainly enjoying every moment of their noisy, public rutting. 

Turning back to the dance floor, he met the heavily made-up eyes of a beautiful young man who had moved to stand next to him. Orlando smiled and nodded his head in greeting. He’d never formally been introduced to Adam Lambert but they had attended many of the same glitzy functions over the years. 

“Adam,” the young singer said with a smile, clinking his glass against Orlando’s 

“Orlando,” the actor replied with an amused smile. 

The novelty of introducing himself was more enjoyable than he imagined. The thing about being famous was that you never got to do it, everybody already knew who you were, nobody ever asked your name or what you did for a living like normal people did when they met for the first time. Complete strangers would come up to him and call him by his name as if they knew him personally and ask him things about his private life that they really had no business knowing. 

“Here alone?” Adam asked, leaning in closer to make himself heard over the music. 

“For the moment,” Orlando replied. “But I am expecting someone later.”

“A casual meet up?” 

“Long term partner, been together nearly fifteen years now,” Orland said. 

Adam seemed genuinely surprised to learn that, which pleased Orlando because it meant his relationship with Viggo was still safely under wraps even in openly gay and gossipy showbiz circles.

“Jealous type, or would he be cool with me asking you to dance? I’ve been watching you up here for a while,” Adam said, his eyes had a sparkle to them and his smile was mischievous. “But I think you’d look infinitely hotter down there on the dance floor. Shall we?” 

“Yes, why not,” Orlando grinned, downing the last of his drink and leading the way down the stairs and into the mass of swaying, gyrating bodies. 

It had been a long time since he had been asked to dance by a cute guy and even longer since he’d been able to simply abandon himself to the enjoyment of male company. He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the music. It came as no surprise that Adam was a brilliant dancer, and a very physical one too. His hands moved constantly over Orlando's body, sliding from his shoulders down his chest to his hips. Their torsos twisted and swayed, their hips rotated and gyrated together. They became aware of the attentive stares they were drawing and put on more of a show. Orlando pulled his shirt free of his trousers and unbuttoned it. His waistband was low and revealed the sun tattoo on his belly. His movements as he danced caused his open shirt to reveal, in tantalising glimpses, the smooth, toned slab of his torso. A nipple flashed as he flung an arm out and the tanned skin of his stomach undulated as he swung his hips and rotated his pelvis. 

The crowd pressed in around them. Adam moved from his front to behind him, pulling Orlando close to him, back to chest, ass to cock, they bumped and ground their bodies together in rhythm to the music. He didn’t see Viggo get out of the elevator with Ian and another familiar, much loved face they had picked up on the way. But Viggo saw Orlando. He watched with a grin on his face and a tingle in his cock as Orlando and his dark-haired dance partner burned up the dance floor. 

“Oh, if I was forty years younger,” sighed Ian, following Viggo’s gaze. “I would insert myself into the middle of that boy-sandwich in the blink of an eye.” 

“I think I’m going to do just that,” Viggo laughed and had a quick word in the ear of the man who had arrived with them before disappearing upstairs to the bar to get himself a drink. 

Orlando suddenly felt empty space behind him where Adam had been, but kept dancing by himself, lost to the beat of the song. Another body stepped up close behind him, hands guided his hips then fingers slid up his bare chest. He felt warm breath against his ear as fingertips started playing with his nipples. 

“If you ever get bored with your old man, you give me a call, yeah?” the man gyrating against his backside said. 

Orlando’s face split in a wide grin. He knew that voice, that accent, that adorable not-quite-there lisp. 

“You’re top of my list Dom,” he said, dropping his head back onto Dominic Monaghan’s shoulder. “Didn’t know you were going to be here. I didn’t see you at the theatre earlier.” 

“I had another engagement, but I wouldn’t miss one of Ian’s private parties for the world.” 

They continued swaying to the music, Dom’s hands resting on Orlando's shoulders, then sliding down his arms, fingers closing around Orli’s wrists and pulling his hands behind his back, just as he had been instructed to do by Viggo a moment ago. 

“You look like you need a good seeing to,” Viggo growled softly in Orlando’s ear as he moved in front of him, grinding against him, trapping Orlando between himself and Dom’s body. 

When their lips met, Viggo’s tongue was vicious in its possession of Orlando’s mouth. His expression was lustful and hungry when the kiss ended. Orlando was glad he had the solid support of Dominic behind him. With his arms still restrained behind his back, he continued to rock his body against Dom’s in time to the music while Viggo tipped his drink to both of their lips, first Dom’s, then Orlando’s. They both took a long swallow. The strong alcohol burned pleasantly down Orlando’s throat as he watched Viggo dig an ice cube out of the glass. 

It began its journey under Orlando’s jaw, travelled down his throat, melting icy droplets as it went. Viggo held it in the hollow at the base of his neck for a moment, letting the water pool, then slid it down to his nipple. He circled it slowly then rubbed it back and forth across the tightly puckered nub. Orlando hissed. Viggo moved it to the other nipple while his tongue lapped at the chilled peak of the first. When Viggo slid the melting cube down Orlando’s stomach he squirmed violently, but Dom held him tighter. The ice ended its excursion in his bellybutton, where the heat of his skin melted the last of it, rivulets of water trickling down his smooth belly and soaking into the waistband of his trousers. 

“Thank you, you can let him go now,” Viggo said softly to Dom. 

Orlando turned his head and placed a soft kiss on the side of Dom’s face before he stepped away. 

“Is that Adam Lambert?” Dominic asked, his eyes scanning the room in search of someone interesting who might want to take advantage of Ian’s hospitality and spend the evening playing with him. 

“Yeah, and he’s here on his own tonight,” Orlando replied as Viggo pulled him closer. 

They danced chest to chest, groin to groin, Orlando moving and swaying seductively as Viggo's hand dipped down the back of his trousers, finding him gloriously without underwear. His finger’s slipping between Orlando’s cheeks and pressing firmly against his tight opening. 

“Jesus Vig, your fingers are bloody freezing,” Orlando gasped. 

“They’re warmer than an ice cube,” Viggo whispered, licking Orlando’s ear. “Or would you like to try one of those instead?”

“Would rather feel your cock in there,” Orlando replied truthfully. 

They danced a while longer, the heat of Viggo’s body intensifying the scent of his cologne. It was the same one he had worn over a decade ago when they were filming in New Zealand. The smell of it transported Orlando back to the happiest time of his life. Memories of sweating bodies in nightclubs, of Viggo pressing up against him as they danced came flooding back to him. Stolen moments on set, secret caresses in the makeup trailer, furtive kisses behind the scenery. Orlando hadn’t realized how lucky he had been to be working with Viggo every day and spending all their time off together, until it came to an end. He didn’t know what a luxury it had been to have woken up almost every morning in Viggo’s bed until he came home and woke up alone in his own bed. New Zealand had been a different world, Orlando thought of it as the watershed in his life. 

There was life before Wellington and life after Wellington. Before Wellington, when his life had been his own and his privacy respected, surrounded by friends and the people he considered his on-set family, he had been able to openly be the person he was. And afterwards, when success and fame had robbed him of his anonymity and privacy, when he couldn’t buy a loaf of bread without some sod with a long lens taking his picture and selling it to the highest bidding tabloid, where true and trusted friends were a rare commodity and even strangers had an agenda. Constant press intrusion irked him, but the thing that hurt him the most was that his love life had to retreat behind a veil of secrecy, every precious dinner or night spent with Viggo had to be planned with military precision just to ensure that they escaped the prying cameras that seemed to be forever trained on him. 

The song that started playing now brought those wonderful memories of easier, more carefree times even closer. It had been a favourite of theirs, at the top of the charts when they were filming Rings. They had seemed to hear it everywhere they went and it became the anthem of their newly blossoming relationship. Orlando rocked to the beat, letting the memories of the past wash over him. 

“This takes me back,” he said, pressing his lips to Viggo’s neck. “Remember how we used to dance to this back then?”

“I remember,” Viggo replied. “I wanna take you back there, back to that time.” 

He began by tugging Orlando’s shirt down his arms and pulling his own shirt over his head. They had always seemed to lose their tops the moment they stepped onto the dance floor back in New Zealand. The same nearly naked attendant that had taken Viggo’s empty glass a while ago stepped forward and took their shirts. Then Viggo pulled the elastic tie from his lover’s hair slipping it onto his wrist and fluffed his fingers through Orlando’s dark curls, taking a moment to simply stare and admire him. He was a magnificent sight, all smooth glowing skin and hair hanging loose around his shoulders. Back in the day he had been much thinner, his hair cut in a short Mohawk, since then Orlando had bulked up, gaining a little weight and a lot of muscle, but his body still moved in the sensually lithe way it always had. 

They danced as they had back then, bodies pressed tightly together moving as one, Viggo behind Orlando, his hands roaming freely over the younger man’s body. Around them, couples were dancing intimately close, surrendering to the wanton atmosphere. More than one cock was on display, hands and mouths were giving pleasure. In an armchair to the side of the room one naked man straddled another’s lap as he rode his partner’s cock. Viggo and Orlando watched, feeling the answering twinge of arousal in their own groins with every stroke and thrust the man made. Orlando’s head dropped back onto Viggo’s shoulder as the older man’s hand slid down his belly and cupped him through the soft material of his trousers. 

“Mmmm, that feels good,” Orlando murmured as Viggo’s palm rubbed him.

“Remember how it was back then when we couldn’t wait long enough to get home and we would fuck against the wall in the alley behind the club?” Viggo whispered between kisses to Orlando’s temple. 

“Yeah,” Orlando replied, with a shiver of arousal at the memory. 

“Want to revisit that moment?” Viggo husked.

Orlando nodded. 

Viggo pulled him from the dance floor and they moved along the wall to a quiet place near the staircase. He turned Orlando towards the wall, lifted his arms, and planted his palms against it. Reaching around, he unbuttoned Orlando’s fly and slid the zipper down carefully. 

With his trousers pushed down to the middle of his thighs, his legs spread, leaning against the wall on outstretched arms, Orlando felt wanton and slutty. And he loved it. One of the attendants was summoned with a flick of Viggo’s finger. He arrived carrying bowl of condoms in one hand and a bowl of lube sachets in the other. Viggo peeled the pack open and rolled the latex onto his erection. While they had dispensed with the need for condoms a long time ago when it became clear that their relationship was going to long-term and absolutely exclusive, Viggo used one now because it took him back to the very beginning when they had used them all the time. Plus they were in a public place without easy access to a bath or shower to clean up properly, and he didn’t want Orlando to suffer the indignity and discomfort of having Viggo’s climactic release leaking out of him for the rest of the evening. He rolled one down Orlando’s cock too, simply for ease of clean up. In the comfort and privacy of their own homes semen spills were easily dealt with, but he didn’t think Orlando would feel comfortable pulsing the result his orgasm onto the club’s wall and carpet. 

Viggo took three mini sachets of lube from the boy before he waved him away. In his opinion you could never use too much lube, especially when prepping and stretching were practically non-existent. He coated his own condom-covered cock with one, used another to push his fingers into Orlando’s puckered hole and slicked him as much as he could. The last he emptied into his hand to give Orlando a hand job while he fucked him. 

His entry was deliberately slow and careful. It had been a couple of months since they’d had sex and Orlando was deliciously tight. He had to grit his teeth for control as Orlando pushed back against him, impatiently impaling himself with a long, loud needy moan. 

“Give it to me Vig. I want it,” Orlando panted, rocking back against him. 

With one hand fisting into his hair and the other curling around Orlando’s cock, Viggo gave him what he wanted. He pulled on Orli’s hair, yanking his head back and bit into his neck while his other hand pumped him furiously and his cock thrust into him, fucking him hard. They drew a little crowd, but neither of them noticed nor cared, it had been too long and it felt too good. Everything else faded away, the room, the music, and the people. Their thrusting bodies, their gasping moans, their exquisite pleasure were all that existed. All that mattered. 

The rhythmic clenching of Orlando’s channel around Viggo’s cock announced his orgasm, and threw Viggo over the edge of his own shuddering climax. He laid his forehead, beaded with sweat, against the damp back of Orlando’s neck and breathed heavily. 

“God I needed that,” Orlando panted. “It was amazing, just like being back in the alley outside that club in Wellington.” 

Viggo nuzzled his neck and carefully withdrew his cock. Behind them they heard a small round of applause and a couple of wolf whistles before the crowd discretely melted away. The attendant magically appeared at Viggo’s elbow and held a small silver bowl into which Viggo dropped his used condom before carefully sliding Orlando’s off and disposing of it the same way. The boy handed him two warm, scented cloths and disappeared again. 

Only one of their appreciative audience had remained behind – Ian, and he now lifted Orlando away from the wall and slid in front of him, inserting himself between the wall and Orlando and settling the young actor against his chest, soothing him with tender strokes of his hair. 

“There, there gorgeous boy,” he murmured softly. “That was lovely, wasn’t it?”

Orlando, too sated to talk, simply nodded his head. 

Viggo was used to the unusually close relationship his lover shared with their old friend. It had started during the filming in New Zealand and had Viggo not captured Orlando’s attention and heart, it would probably have developed into something of a love affair despite Orlando and Ian’s age differences. Orlando certainly seemed to have a thing for older men. Viggo smiled at Ian now as he used one of the cloths to softly wipe Orlando’s cleft clean of lube. The other he handed to Ian with a gentle nod of permission. 

“Do you mind, dear heart?” Ian asked Orlando softly.

Orlando indicated that he did not and Ian gently ran the cloth over his still very sensitive cock, tenderly cleaning him. He was slow and thorough in his ministrations, and Orlando was soon sighing happily. 

“Mmm, feels nice,” he said softly as he moved his hand to Ian’s groin and began to rub him gently through his trousers. 

“Oh you make an old man very happy my dear,” Ian sighed and let Orlando fondle him for a moment more before he added, “And a young man very jealous,”

Orlando looked over his shoulder and saw a handsome young man watching them from a few feet away. He didn’t look like he was going to make a scene, but there was an unmistakable scowl on his face. 

“Someone special?” Orlando asked, dropping his hand away. 

“He might turn out to be,” Ian admitted. “Lord Sherborne’s son. Investment banker in the City. Very eager to please in bed, but a bit petulant at times. I’ll introduce you at a more appropriate time.”

“Like when I’ve got my dick back in my pants?” Orlando chuckled as Ian gently eased his body out from between Orlando and the wall while Viggo helped him to tuck himself back in. 

“Has that taken the edge off your lust baby?” Viggo asked, turning him around and kissing him. 

“For now,” Orlando replied, biting gently at his lip. “Need a drink and a sit down, then we can dance some more.” 

They walked hand in hand up the stairs to the bar and Orlando flopped down on a sofa while Viggo ordered the drinks. 

His evening had got off to a good start and he had a feeling that the rest of it was going to get a lot better. 

To be continued……


	3. Chapter 3

** CHAPTER THREE **

It turned out that eight of Ian’s private party guests were staying at The Dorchester, so the doorman who ushered them from the limousines that delivered them back at four the next morning, simply assumed that the assortment of actors and musicians had all attended the same award ceremony or charity event.

Viggo and Orlando collected the key cards to their separate suites along with the others and rode up in the elevator in silence, although they all shared knowing glances and smiles among themselves. 

Viggo entered his suite and opened the adjoining door at the same time that Orlando opened his from the other side. 

“I love your agent,” he said as he walked through it and into Orlando’s arms. “I don’t know how she always manages to arrange interconnecting rooms without it looking suspicious.” 

“Just once I’d like to check into the same room as you and to hell with what the tabloids would write about it.” 

“We will baby, one day. But right now it’s not worth the damage it would do to your career,” Viggo told him. 

They were tired and sweaty from the party, Viggo didn’t think he’d danced that much in years, probably not since the Hobbits had dragged him to every nightclub they could find in New Zealand more than a decade ago. He joined Orlando in the shower and enjoyed the feel of hot water cascading over his tired muscles. 

“I had fun tonight,” Orlando said, squeezing shower gel onto a washcloth and rubbing the lather all over Viggo’s skin. “Felt like I was transported back in time, to when life was simpler and easier.” 

Viggo agreed as took the cloth from him and began to wash Orlando’s body in turn. They reminisced about their time in New Zealand, the days on set, the incredible locations and everything that happened afterwards. They both missed the cast and crew. Since then neither of them had ever worked on a project where they’d felt like part of a family the way they had with the Rings people. 

“And the best thing that happened over there, was you,” Viggo said, his smile shining with love. 

Warm water rained down and steam billowed around them as they kissed, hands caressing wet skin and lingering in sensitive spots. Orlando turned Viggo around, massaging the knots out of his shoulders and the back of his neck, listening to his relaxed, contented sighs. 

“You’re so good at that, I could let you stand there all day and do it,” Viggo yawned, but the prod of Orlando’s erection against the back of his thigh, told Viggo that bed and sleep were still a long way off. 

“There are other things I’m good at too,” Orlando husked, his mouth brushing against Viggo’s ear. “Lean forward baby, head against the wall, and spread your legs.”

Viggo did as he was told, folding his forearms against the tiled shower wall and resting his head on them. Orlando reached around him and turned the water off, the swirling steam keeping them enveloped in a cloud of warmth. His mouth worked its way down Viggo's back, kissing and licking until Orlando was on his knees behind him. Viggo held his breath as he felt Orlando's hands cup his butt cheeks and gently part them with his thumbs. 

This was one part of his body that Viggo always kept waxed or shaved. The rest of him was either hairless, or not, depending on his mood or Orlando's presence. It was a gesture Orlando always appreciated and rewarded with the long rimming sessions that he knew Viggo loved. 

His mouth watered as he eyed his lover’s perfect pink pucker. Leaning forward he kissed it tenderly, just a gentle caress of his lips. Viggo exhaled a shuddering breath. Orlando kissed it again, moving his head to skim the soft sensitive skin up and down the valley of Viggo's cleft. More gentle, teasing kisses followed, then Orlando began French kissing that sweet, tight hole, the same way he would if it had been Viggo's mouth. Above him Viggo breathed harder, incapable of hiding how much he loved this. 

Still kissing with gentle caresses of his tongue, Orlando hummed with pleasure. He leaned his head back and blew softly on the glistening wet skin, watching it twitch and contract. Digging his thumbs in, he pulled Viggo open wider and swiped a long, slow lick with the flat of his tongue. Viggo shivered and arched his back, pushing himself against Orlando's talented mouth. 

“You like that baby?” Orlando asked, replacing his tongue with a stroking finger for a moment. 

“Yeah, love it.” 

Orlando smiled and returned his attention to where Viggo wanted it. Feather-light kisses alternating with rough tongue-filled ones. Lapping and licking, and driving Viggo wild, he prodded with the point of his tongue, pressing it to Viggo's hole and wiggling it around. Pulling his cheeks wider, Orlando pushed the tip of his tongue in, listening to Viggo's growl of encouragement. Gentle teasing now forgotten, Orlando fucked with his tongue, pushing it in as deep as he could, thrilled by the heat and tight clench he was driving into. 

“Fuck!” 

Orlando always knew he was winning when the only things coming out of Viggo's usually civilized mouth were expletives. He kept up his tongue-fucking assault, letting go of one of Viggo’s cheeks and moving his hand between Viggo’s legs to fondle his balls. 

“ _Fuuucckk_ ,” Viggo hissed again. “Sweet bitching hell Orlando!” 

His thighs were trembling and his cock was drooling a long thread of pre-cum, stretching halfway to the shower floor. He was getting close to the point of being completely undone and Orlando knew it. But Orlando didn’t want this to end just yet. He dropped his hand and gave Viggo's hole one last tongue-wiggling stab, then turned him around with guiding hands on his hips. He broke the long strand leaking from Viggo's penis with his finger and took the very tip of his cock into his mouth, sucking vexingly gently on its swollen, sensitive head. 

Viggo whimpered as Orlando let him slip from this mouth and raised himself up from his knees. Their kiss was needy and passionate. 

“Come to bed baby,” Orlando said, lacing his fingers through Viggo's and leading out of the shower. 

Viggo followed silently, smiling lovingly as Orlando began to dry him. 

“First I’m going to take care of _this_ with a nice leisurely suck,” Orli told him, a finger tracing the throbbing ridge of the vein on the underside of Viggo's cock. “Then I’m going to fuck you.” 

Words were lost to Viggo, he simply nodded his head and followed Orlando to bed.

0o0

They woke up late the next day, limbs entangled, in the bed in Orlando's suite. It was after eleven according to the bedside clock. They had finally fallen asleep as the sun was coming up. Orlando yawned and stretched, then snuggled back against Viggo, but his stomach was rumbling and hunger made it impossible to go back to sleep.

Viggo woke up a few moments later, the delicious tenderness between his legs reminding him of their exertions a few hours ago. They ordered room service separately from the phones in each of their suites and it was delivered separately to each of their doors. Orlando appeared in Viggo's room with his tray a few seconds later and they climbed into Viggo's bed to eat. No housekeepers or room maids were going to be able to say that either of their beds hadn’t been slept in. 

They watched cartoons while they ate. It was a habit they had picked up a long time ago while filming in New Zealand when Henry had come to stay with Viggo during school holidays. Their relationship had been new and still in that heady honeymoon phase. Henry had accepted the situation and taken an immediate shine to Orlando, much to Viggo's relief. He explained as much as he thought necessary to his son, always believing that kids were more intuitive and understanding than adults gave them credit for. The more intimate details of their sex life he had left out, there was plenty of time in the future for Henry to learn all about that. But the boy had happily accepted that Viggo and Orlando shared a bed when Orlando stayed over, which was often. He treated Orlando not as his father’s lover, but as his own friend. One of the many things that had made Viggo fall in love with Orlando was the way Orli had treated Henry the very first time he had come to visit the set. It had been right at the beginning, before they had even noticed each other in a way more than just fellow actors and cast members. 

Always a shy kid, more likely to have his nose stuck in a book or his eyes glued to a computer game, Henry had hung timidly on the side-lines watching the world of the Tolkien books he loved so much being created before his eyes. Viggo could only imagine how magical the experience must have been for him, but he also noticed how lonely it seemed. He tried to make sure that he spent as much time with Henry as possible and that he never felt left out, but it was difficult with his character having so much screen time and so many gruelling scenes to shoot. One day he went looking for Henry, starting to worry when he hadn’t seen him for a while. He found the boy behind the makeup trailer, a huge elven bow in his hands, Orlando leaning over him, his hands on top of Henry’s as he showed him how to pull the string back and aim the arrow. 

When Henry shot and hit the target Orlando had set against the fence for him, Viggo watched the young Brit whoop and dance and congratulate Henry with high-fives and a low, dignified Mirkwood elf curtsey. Henry was more thrilled at having shot Legolas’ famous bow than he was with actually having hit the target.

And Legolas wasn’t the only Middle-Earther who made an effort to befriend Henry, the Orcs took him under their wing too and let him sit and watch their makeup being applied and allowed him to play with their weapons. A couple of women in the catering department took a special interest in him too, but that was only to further their own interest in Viggo. A lot of the females on the set had more than an obvious crush on Aragorn and some went to any length to insinuate themselves into his life, even going as far as using his child to do it. A fact that made Viggo more than angry. 

As the weeks passed and Orlando and Viggo finally entered each other’s sights, Viggo wondered if Orlando’s interest Henry had more to do with his roundabout attempts at flirting than they did with befriending the boy. One day during their lunch break, Viggo found them sitting under a tree, Orlando eating an apple while Henry read Elven words to him and Orlando tried to translate them into English. 

“I’m getting good at this,” Orlando grinned when Henry went inside to get something to eat and Viggo came to sit down next to him. “I’d like to learn to more of the Elf language than just the bits for my lines, it’s fascinating and he’s been helping me.” 

“I want to thank you for taking the time to make friends with my son,” Viggo said, his finger rubbing seductive circles around Anduril’s hilt without realizing he was doing it. 

“He’s your son?” Orlando had responded, genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know that. I hope I haven’t overstepped any boundaries? He just looked like a lonely kid who needed a friend.” 

After that, Viggo had invited Orlando to hang out with the two of them more often, between takes and on rare days off. He didn’t know who was more delighted, his son or Orlando. 

By Henry’s second school holiday visit, Viggo and Orlando were a couple, but Orlando made sure that Henry slotted easily back into their lives, picking up his friendship with the lad where it had left off the year before. It was during that stay that they had started to eat breakfast together and watch the cartoons on TVNZ – a tradition that had spanned length of their relationship. 

Viggo chuckled as he ate and watched, enjoying the memories that this simple activity brought back to him and loving the fact that Orlando was once again in his bed with him. Their time apart was getting harder to bear making their blissful reunions even more precious to him. 

Food eaten, Orlando relaxed against the pillows, giggling at the antics of the animated characters, while he drank a cup of tea and Viggo gave him a toe-curling blow job. He returned the favour, eagerly swallowing the load Viggo blew into his mouth then settled down in bed, looking forward to a few more hours of indulgent kissing and fondling, and maybe another bout of love-making if his tired, jet-lagged body could manage it. 

But his disappointment turned to anger as soon as Viggo told him he had something important to do and slipped out from beneath the sheets, heading for the shower.

“Should I be worried Vig?” Orlando asked him a few minutes later when he joined him under the spray of hot water. “It’s not like you to be so secretive, or to be off doing something else when we have such precious little time together.” 

“It’s a surprise baby. You’re going to love it, trust me, but I can’t tell you about it just yet.”

“Does this have something to do with the news Ian got last night? The thing neither of you will tell me about?” 

“It does,” Viggo admitted, tipping shampoo into his hand and starting to lather it into Orlando’s hair. 

They didn’t speak of it again as they washed each other’s hair and bodies, occupying their mouths with long, wet, lazy kisses instead. 

It was after lunchtime when Viggo left the hotel on his secret mission and Orlando had a couple of hours to kill before the seven o’clock flight that would take them to Spain and a few cherished days at Viggo’s villa in the hills. It was much too late to join Sean and Ian at their brunch and anyway, they’d have long finished and gone their separate ways by now. He called Sean but his phone went to voicemail, then Ian, but he was already at the theatre preparing for the matinee show. Dominic answered his phone but it was clear by his heavy breathing and the sounds in the background that Orlando had interrupted something. 

“Adam Lambert?” Orlando asked. 

“Yep,” came Dom’s reply over the line. 

“You dirty, horny little bugger,” Orlando laughed, “Well enjoy it you slut, I want all the filthy details later.” 

He couldn’t think of anyone else to call. Truthfully there were many people he knew in London, but none of them that he wanted to spend time with right at that moment, so he took Viggo's advice of the night before and decided to go and check out his friend’s new art gallery. 

He dressed in tatty jeans and a baggy sweater. He tied his hair back, pulled a hat down over his brow and put on a pair of dark sunglasses. Looking in the mirror he thought he could easily pass as one of the many thousands young students out on London’s streets. 

He got two blocks before he realized it was impossible to continue. As soon as he stepped through the hotel door the paparazzi photographers who hang around outside London’s best hotels spotted him and snapped pictures, calling his name and trying to get him to look at them or say something that could be reported in tomorrow’s tabloids. The hotel’s private security managed to round them up long enough for him to make an escape. On the second block, a fan recognized him by the distinctive jewellery he always wore. Unfortunately for Orlando, the girl was with ten of her best mates so it took ages for him to sign all the autographs they asked for and pose for all the pictures they requested. It was something that came with the territory of being famous and Orlando always complied with his fans requests as much as he could. He remembered being a teenager himself and being star struck by actors and rock stars. He’d never had much chance to meet any of his idols until he became a star himself, but he always imagined what it would have been like to see his favourite actor walking along and to pluck up the courage to ask for a signature or a photo only to have that person brush him off with a rude rebuke. It would be soul destroying and he had decided early on in his career that he would always endeavour to make the day of any fan who bumped into Orlando Bloom a happy one, even if it meant a lot of inconvenience to himself. 

The only time he had ever been rude to a fan was when he had been spotted in a restaurant in Los Angeles. He’d posed for a picture with the woman, given her an autograph and talked to her for longer than he thought necessary. In exchange he had expected to be left in peace to enjoy his meal with a good friend who was visiting for few days, but the woman had persisted, snapping pictures of him eating, shoving her camera in his face and blinding him with the flash every time he looked up. He’d lost his temper, got up and walked out without paying. But the next day he’d gone back, apologized to the maître-d, paid for his uneaten meal and left an enormous tip for the waitress who had been serving him.

After that, he’d become politely firm with his fans, making it clear that he’d complied with all their requests and now would like them to respect his own wishes to be left alone to eat, swim, drive, jog or whatever else they’d caught him trying to do . 

Now as he put his head down and tried to walk on, he realized that if the last two blocks were anything to go by, it would take him ages to make it to the nearest tube station. Plus he’d probably miss his stop if he got spotted on the train and became caught up signing and posing for photos again. So he stepped into the road and hailed a taxi which deposited him right outside the gallery door. 

Viggo had been right about the exhibition, his friend had a lot of interesting work on display. He was greeted warmly by the owner who he had never met before but who knew exactly who he was. Viggo had told him Orlando might drop by and he was offered refreshments and then left alone to enjoy examining the artwork and sculptures for a pleasantly peaceful hour.

Back at the hotel Orlando found the note Viggo had left for him, it was on the pillow of his bed, tucked underneath a set of car keys. 

_Orli, I need to be here longer than expected. Going to stay overnight and join you at the villa tomorrow. Here are the car keys, it’s parked in the short term garage, green zone, a row or two from the elevator. Press the button to disengage the alarm, the lights will flash and it’ll beep, you should find it easily enough.  
I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got something special for you. XXX_

Orlando was both furious and hurt but there was nothing he could do about it. He shoved the note and the keys into his pocket as he muttered that Viggo's gift had better be bloody special indeed. 

He packed his few belongings, the clothes he had worn the day before and all his toiletries from the bathroom then made his way down to the lobby. He checked if there were any extras the hotel wanted him to settle before he left, but the receptionist told him that their instructions were to send the entire account to his agency in Los Angeles. He signed an autograph for the woman’s daughter and hopped into the taxi the doorman had summoned for him. 

The ride to the airport was long and boring, London rush hour traffic was hell as usual. Orlando put his headphones on and listened to music while he watched the city blocks creep slowly by. But once at the airport it was smooth sailing. He was whisked through check-in and into the VIP lounge where he sat reading until his flight was called. 

The plane took off on time and as it climbed, Orlando watched the fertile green patchwork fields of England fall away beneath him. Somewhere down there, just a speck too small to see, was Viggo. It felt wrong to be leaving him behind and heading to Spain without him. 

As the plane entered the clouds and began to level out, Orlando wondered what it would feel like to stay in Viggo's villa alone and to wake up in Viggo's bed tomorrow morning without him. Sighing unhappily, he accepted the fact that whether he liked it or not, he was about to find out. 

To be continued…….


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Viggo arrived at the small Spanish airport in the middle of the afternoon and hired a car for the half hour drive up the coast to his house.

As well as his Spanish villa, he had a ranch in California two hours from LA, where he lived most of the year and kept his beloved horses. It was close enough to get to the city easily but far enough that the madness of Hollywood didn’t touch his everyday life. Until a few years ago he had also owned a small apartment in Venezuela where’d grown up, but he’d decided to sell it when his filming schedule and busy life didn’t allow him the time to visit it often enough.

For his European base he had chosen Spain because he spoke the language, loved the food and the casual, relaxed lifestyle, plus he was so inspired by the landscape that he found his art flowed more freely from him when he was there. He lived in half of the villa, the other half he had converted into a studio to work in. The light was so different from England or Denmark, or anywhere else that he had tried to put down roots long enough to satisfy his creative side. It was more vibrant, more alive; the air seemed to shimmer with inspiration. But that wasn’t the only reason he loved his Spanish homestead. He was drawn to it because it was in a region yet untouched by tourism. The sun-worshiping, party loving crowds that flocked to Marbella and the isle of Ibiza had never made it as far as this area. It was even further still from the bustling crowds of Barcelona and Madrid. The house sat on the side of a steep rocky hill at the end of a twisting, dusty track. His only neighbour for ten miles was an ancient sun-burnished farmer, so leathery and weather-beaten that it was impossible to tell his age. The old man’s citrus orchard and olive groves were the only things between Viggo’s villa and the beach, a ten minute drive down the hill. It was more of a rocky cove than a beach and it was only used occasionally by local fishermen. The steep and difficult climb down to it meant that it was totally secluded and mostly deserted too. Viggo had spent countless happy hours there; fishing, painting or just sitting and staring at the natural beauty around him. 

The nearest inhabited settlement was a small coastal village fifteen miles away, where very few people spoke English and even fewer took any notice of him. Ramshackle whitewashed buildings clustered around a central square, where a fountain had been the only source of fresh water in medieval times. Now a market was held there once a week and Viggo often shopped for fresh fruit, vegetables and fish. There were only two taverns and a handful of small local restaurants and tapas bars. Viggo’s favourite was right on the beach, it was here that he had eaten some of the best food he had ever tasted, and over the years he had become friends with the owner and her family. It was a place that he also loved taking Orlando, who had developed quite a taste for the woman’s cooking too. Nobody there spoke English so their conversations were always private, and nobody blinked an eye if they held hands or kissed. It was the only place in the world where they could share a romantic evening of good food and wine, open caresses and public embraces. It was also one of the few places in the village where people knew his name. Elsewhere he was simply known as ‘the artist’, or ‘the American’. The first because he was often seen sitting at a tavern having a cold beer with his sketchbook in hand, the second, a title he had gained from his soft spoken accent. Nobody knew who he was, and if they did, they didn’t care. He doubted that any of them had ever seen any of his films. He loved being anonymous, just another invisible face in the crowd, and it was this blessing of anonymity that he loved sharing with Orlando too. While it was true that Orlando always turned a few heads when he wandered around the dusty, winding alleyways looking in the shop windows, Viggo believed that was more because he was strikingly beautiful, with a dazzling, easily shared smile, than because anybody had a clue that he was famous. 

He parked the rented car and let himself into his house. It was pleasantly cool and quiet inside. His eyes took a moment to adjust after the bright sunshine. He called out Orlando’s name but got no reply. Going upstairs he found the bedroom empty, but the bed had been slept in. He smiled when he saw that the pillows from his side had been pulled down into the bed and he imagined Orlando’s warm, naked body snuggling up to them as he slept, his face pressed into them, breathing in the scent of his absent lover. 

A splash from outside drew his attention and he slid the glass balcony door open and stepped outside. Orlando was swimming a length of the pool. When he reached the side he turned, pushed off with his long legs and swam another length. Viggo watched him as he did five more, swallowing the urge to call out to him, instead just relishing the pleasure of watching him glide through the water. 

When he reached the shallow end Orlando let his feet drop to the bottom and stood up. He was waist deep in the sparkling blue water, his back to the house and Viggo. He pushed his hands over his head, squeezing the water out of his hair before he shook his head, sending a spray of water all around him. He took a band from his wrist and tied his hair back as he waded to the steps and climbed out of the pool, rivulets of water streaming down his naked body. He walked to a lounger with the lithe grace of a cat, picked up his towel and dried himself quickly, then he picked up the sunglasses that he had left there and put them on. He spread his towel over the cushion, adjusted the back of the lounger upwards and then flopped down onto it, reclining comfortably, his legs stretched out, one arm raised above his head, resting on the back of the lounger’s cushion, the other resting gently on his stomach. 

Viggo held his breath, wondering if Orlando would casually start playing with himself, but his hand stayed still on his stomach and his soft cock remained nestled flaccidly against his thigh. Slipping back inside quietly, Viggo stripped off then went down to the kitchen where he filled an ice bucket and shoved two bottles of beer into it. He tucked the carefully folded newspaper he had brought with him under his arm, and placed the very special treasure that he carried, into the ice bucket with the beers where he could easily lay his hands on it when he needed it. He was surprised to find his heart thumping and a shiver of nervous energy vibrating through him as he headed outside to the pool. 

Orlando turned his head at the sound of the ice bucket being placed on the slate floor next to his lounger. His face lit up when he saw Viggo and he started to get up. 

“Stay there,” Viggo said, his voice even softer than usual. “You look beautiful, I just want to gaze at you for a while.” 

Orlando lay back and relaxed, knowing that Viggo's artist eyes were sliding over him, committing every inch of his body to memory to be sketched or painted later. He added to the vision by arching his back slightly and kinking one knee to the side, just enough to part his legs seductively. One arm was still flung over the back of the lounger above his head, the other moved down his stomach where his fingers traced the lines of his sun tattoo, then moved up his chest and began playing with a nipple. 

The twitching and lengthening of Viggo's cock proved that Orlando’s actions were having the desired effect. He had often been teased by these playful displays of Orlando’s. They usually ended with Viggo watching while Orlando masturbated for him, his climax spilling over his fingers, coating his abdomen with ribbons of orgasmic beauty that made Viggo's mouth water for a taste. But today Viggo had other plans for his beautiful, chocolate-haired lover. 

“Keep playing with your nipples and spread your legs,” he instructed. 

Orlando complied. 

Viggo knelt next to the lounger and leaned forward, planting a path of soft kisses along Orlando’s inner thighs from his knees to his groin. One hand caressed Orlando's thigh, the other stroked his stomach while his mouth fluttered kisses all over his cock. It stretched and lengthened under his tongue, eliciting soft, happy sighs from its owner. 

If there was anything in the world more wonderful than pleasuring this beautiful man out in the open, with the sun shining down on them, then Viggo didn’t know what it was. This was heaven to him. Orlando, aroused out in nature, was the alter he worshipped at, the religion he had been converted to, the spell he had fallen under in New Zealand. They had gone hiking and camping in nature as often as they could over there. The country was so vast and so beautiful that it could not be ignored. He lost count of the amount of times they had made love under the stars, swum naked under waterfalls, sat together in silence watching spectacular sunsets. The seclusion and privacy of his Spanish villa was the closest they had ever come to recreating those special moments again. 

Orlando was moaning softly now as Viggo's tongue worked its magic on him. His voice growing louder as Viggo took him into his mouth, sucking gently and swirling his tongue around the sensitive head of his cock. The other thing Viggo loved about the isolation of his house, was that they could be as loud as they wanted to be. He loved nothing more than hearing Orlando’s shouts echoing around them, loved watching him abandon himself to pure pleasure, letting himself go in ways that he couldn’t when they were in hotel rooms or Orlando’s LA house with its neighbours so close by. 

His mouth sucked, his tongue stroked, his fingers worked the base of Orlando's cock as his head bobbed up and down, drawing his lips up the entire length of Orli’s shaft and pushing back down again. Orlando's thighs trembled, his fingers twisted into Viggo's hair, his hips bucked as he thrust himself deeper into Viggo's mouth. He cried out when Viggo began to swallow around him, taking him further down his throat until the sensitive tip of his cock hit the soft, cushioning flesh at the back of Viggo's throat. The first time Viggo had done that to him, in the mountains under the stars on one of their camping trips during filming, Orlando had shot his load without warning. He’d never felt anything quite like it, it made his mind explode. Over the years he’d learned to anticipate this clever deep-throating trick of Viggo's, and he was able to control himself a little better, although it still made him see stars. 

“Stop for a second Vig, let me lower the lounger so we can both lie flat. I want to do you too,” he said when words came back to him.

Orlando always wanted to share the ecstasy; he always wanted Viggo to feel as much pleasure as he did. He loved it when they lay head to toe, sixty-nine-ing each other, his cock sliding into Viggo's mouth, and Viggo's sliding into his. 

“No baby, this is just for you. We’ll take care of me later, right now I just want to concentrate on you,” Viggo said, stretching up to give him a long, languid kiss before returning his talented mouth to Orlando's cock. 

Much moaning and a few choice swear words later, Orlando was coming. His orgasm was intense; it always was when they were out in Viggo's beloved nature. There was something deliciously dangerous about having sex out in the open where they might be discovered if somebody wandered onto the property, or some photographer found out where the villa was, and trained a telescopic lens on them from the rocky outcrop on the hilltop. The danger made it exciting, the freedom made it exhilarating. 

His orgasm burst from him in gushing release, pulsing into Viggo’s mouth, encouraged by the exquisite caresses of his tongue. 

Orlando lay back gasping as he pushed his sunglasses up on top his head.

“God Viggo, that was incredible,” he panted, running his hands down his torso as blissful aftershocks still rocked him. 

Viggo answered by pressing his fingertips gently to Orlando’s eyelids, making him close his eyes. He reached into the ice bucket and picked up the small treasure he had brought from London. He manoeuvred his body to straddle Orlando’s hips, leaned forward, stroked his face lovingly and cupped it in his hands. Orlando’s lips lifted in a smile as he guessed what was coming next. Viggo usually swallowed his release, but occasionally he shared it in a long cum-filled kiss. He breathed deeply, shivering in anticipation of Viggo’s lips touching his and sharing his mouth’s kinky contents.

But instead of Viggo's tongue pushing semen into his mouth, Orlando received something else. It was round and solid, and judging by the clicking sound it made against his teeth, made of metal. 

Orlando pulled his head back, his eyes opened and looked questioningly at Viggo. His fingers went to his lips and took a beautifully crafted silver ring from his mouth. 

“What is it?” he asked, turning it in his hand. 

“Look closely,” Viggo said, his hand still caressing Orlando’s face tenderly. 

Orlando examined the lovely piece of jewellery carefully, the band was broad, the outside was crafted of tiny interwoven, twisting ribbons of silver with one gold thread weaving through them giving it interest and texture, but on the inside Orlando’s fingertip could feel something else, an engraving of sorts. He brought it closer to his face, studying the inside of the band carefully. His lips broke into a grin and he began to chuckle. The inside of the ring was covered in engraved Elvish-looking script, exactly like the surface of ‘ _The One Ring_ ’ in the film, when it came into contact with fire. Orlando was deeply touched, it was a beautiful gift, a lovely gesture and he was about to throw his arms around Viggo's neck and call him a sentimental old fool, when his noticed something surprising. 

The writing on the inside of the ring looked like Elvish script, or rather, was very cleverly disguised as it. But the longer Orlando stared at it, the more he realised he could read it. The script wasn’t made up of letters, but of numbers. Three sets of them covered the inside circle of the ring. He twisted it and turned it, studying the clusters of figures with interest. 

All of a sudden, his eyes widened as he recognised them. They were dates. Day, month and year separated by three Elvish-looking dots. There were three sets of them. Orlando read them silently and smiled despite the feel of tears that were starting to prickle at the back of his eyes. 

“These are dates,” he said softly, looking up at Viggo, who nodded. “This is the first day we met,” he continued, rubbing the tip of his finger over it. “This is the first time we made love,” the tears were starting to well up in his eyes now. “I don’t know what this one is?” 

The last date was a mystery. It hadn’t happened yet, it was in the future about seven months from now. Orlando’s mind scrambled through his schedule for the rest of the year, but he couldn’t think of anything significant that was coming up. 

“That,” Viggo said, leaning forward until his lips brushed against Orlando's mouth. “Is the date I’m going to marry you. If you say yes.” 

Orlando’s breath hitched in his throat, he stared at Viggo, wide-eyed with shock. Viggo’s heart was pounding. He needed Orlando to say yes. To say something… anything, but words were lost on Orlando. 

Suddenly feeling the need to do things properly, traditionally, Viggo dropped to one knee at the side of the lounger and took Orli’s hands in his. 

“Orlando, will you marry me?” 

After a moment more of wide-eyed silence, Orlando let out a cry of delight. 

“Yes!” he shouted, “Oh God yes!” he yelled out to the hills, the sky, the garden, anything and everything that could hear him. 

They fell on each other in a tumble of hugs and kisses. Tears flowed freely down both of their faces. 

“God I need a drink,” Orlando laughed, finally falling back on the lounger. 

Viggo reached into the ice bucket and pulled out the beers, he twisted the caps off and handed one to Orlando. They clinked the bottles together and celebrated their love with a toast to their future. 

“Are you serious?” Orlando asked as he floated back to earth with Viggo settled on the lounger next to him. 

“Absolutely,” Viggo replied, gently taking the ring out of Orlando’s hand when it looked like he was going to try it on. “You can’t wear this now, it’s your wedding ring. I’m going to put it on your finger on the day.” 

“You’ve got this all planned out haven’t you?” Orlando grinned. “You’ve picked the date, so I’m guessing you’ve picked the place as well?” 

Whether they tied the knot in England or America, whether they did it in a beautiful garden or in a quickie Las Vegas chapel, it was going to create the most massive explosion of interest and press intrusion into their lives that they’d ever experienced. He hoped they were ready for it. 

In reply, Viggo simply handed him the folded newspaper that he had brought outside with him. Orlando looked at it; it was a London paper, dated a week ago, the headline declaring that the Coalition Government was announcing a tax cut for pensioners. 

“Page eight,” Viggo said. 

Orlando opened it to that page and began to scan the articles. It was a small column near the bottom of the page, but the headline made his heart leap. 

_Same-sex Marriage Legalized in New Zealand._

“Oh God, can we really? Is it possible?” he asked. “That would be bloody perfect.”

Viggo nodded, knowing that he had never loved Orlando more than he did in that moment.

0o0

The hour had grown late and the light was fading. They had gone inside just long enough to pull on some clothes, grab a bottle of wine and two glasses, a blanket, Viggo's camera and a bottle of lube. Then they’d hiked the short way up the hill behind the house and settled on the blanket, drinking wine while they watched a beautiful sunset. Viggo had snapped photos of the changing hues of the sky as it transitioned from glowing orange to starlit black.

They made love slowly and tenderly on the hilltop, the three-quarter moon that rose over the sea bathing them in soft, silvery light. Afterwards they lay side by side, holding hands in silence, looking up at the sky and following the path of the occasional shooting star that they saw, each secretly making a wish for a long and happy future together. 

Hunger and the chill settling on the night air drove them back down to the house. They picked their way back through the steep olive grove by moonlight, the lights that Viggo had left on in the house guiding their way. Viggo had put his shorts back on, but Orlando walked naked, carrying his in his hand. The slick ejaculation Viggo had released inside him was leaking out, seeping down the back of his legs. It felt obscenely erotic and he knew that Viggo, walking a pace behind him, wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off it.

When he heard the electronic beep of Viggo’s camera being switched on, he looked back over his shoulder with a stern, warning glare. 

“Don’t you dare take a photo of my cum-leaking ass,” he grinned.

The flash went off before he had finished the sentence and he heard Viggo laugh. 

“I’ll fucking kill you Vig,” Orlando admonished, ducking carefully under the low branches of an olive tree. 

“I’m making a collection,” Viggo told him teasingly. “I’m adding it to our ‘Lost’ pictures, and one day I’m going to do an exhibition. I’m going to call it ‘ _Evidence : the most beautiful boy in the world, and how I loved him.’_ ” 

Orlando burst out laughing. “ _How I fucked him and painted him with jizz_ , might be a better title,” he replied. 

He knew the ‘Lost’ photograph Viggo was referring to. They had taken it on the day they had gone hiking in a New Zealand rain forest and got lost. Using the camera’s flash to find their way back in the dark, Viggo had unintentionally snapped some breathtaking pictures. They had been shown in an exhibition and received rave reviews in the book he published. But starkly beautiful photos of branches and trees weren’t the only pictures that had been taken that day. There was also a photograph of Orlando taken in the soft, late afternoon light. He was sprawled on his back on the rocks next to the waterfall they had swum under; his legs spread wide apart, his head turned seductively towards the camera, his heavy-lidded eyes unfocussed in post-orgasmic bliss, his stomach and chest splattered with their combined ejaculate. His, from the deep, shuddering orgasm Viggo had given him by pumping his cock with one hand while two fingers of the other had been inserted into him, stroking and rubbing his prostate until he came harder and more copiously than he ever had in his life. Afterwards Viggo had made love to him, pulling out in time to add his own climactic release to Orlando’s torso. 

Telling the story of getting lost in TV interviews years later, Viggo had never named Orlando as the friend he had been with that day, but he had once slipped up and mentioned that he came out of the rain forest that night, with the most beautiful photograph of Orlando ever taken. He had also made it clear that it was a photo he would never publically release.

0o0

They woke late the next morning in a bed of tangled sheets, curled up in each other’s arms. They spent a couple of hours by the pool, then Viggo dropped the rental car back at the airport, while Orlando followed in their own car. They had decided to spend the rest of the day in the little town, so with the rental car returned, Viggo climbed behind the wheel of his own car and Orlando shifted over to the passenger seat. He pushed a button on the dashboard and the roof of the little convertible folded back and dropped down. They drove the winding coastal road back to the village with the wind blowing in their faces and the sun shining down on them. Viggo wore shorts and a short-sleeved shirt that he hadn’t bothered to button up. Orlando wore shorts too, but he’d pulled his t-shirt off as soon as they hit the road. His hair was in a low ponytail and he had tied a black bandana around his head. He hadn’t shaved since London, and with his skin slowly turning burnished bronze, the bandana on his head and the beginnings a scruffy beard on his face, he was slowly morphing into Will Turner.

Viggo kept glancing at him as he drove. As much as he loved his prissy Elf-boy with his blond hair and his spotless costume, his favourite of Orlando’s characters was by far, young Will the pirate. There was something about the rugged, dirty appearance of him, his unshaven face, his filthy fingernails, his rumpled clothes, and of course that long flowing hair that Viggo loved. He had avoided visiting Orlando on the set of any of the Pirates movies, mostly because his unannounced appearance there would raise awkward and unwanted questions, but also because he knew if he ever came face to face with Orli in his full Will Turner makeup and costume, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off him. Viggo chuckled silently as he imagined them having to call a halt to filming for the day while he banged his pretty pirate in very possible position, in every possible corner on the deck of the Black Pearl. 

They parked near the waterfront and wondered through the streets and shops of the tiny town for a carefree and anonymous hour. Then they walked hand in hand along the wharf and watched the fishermen mending their nets ready for the next morning’s catch. They stopped for a drink at the local tavern then walked along the beach, all the way to the next cove and back again. 

The sun was touching the horizon when Viggo suggested they get an early dinner at their favourite tapas bar and Orlando happily agreed. The greeting they received was as warm and enthusiastic as always, the owner who Viggo knew well, threw her arms around him and admonished him for not coming by sooner. She smiled broadly when she saw Orlando, greeting him in Spanish and hugging him tightly. She had met Orlando many times when he visited there with Viggo, and was always thrilled to see him. She knew that Viggo lived in America and only spent a few months a year in Spain, but she always chided him for not making Orlando come to Spain more often with him and stay longer on each visit. 

She seated them at their favourite table on the patio overlooking the rocks and the sea, and brought them a bottle of their favourite Rioja before they’d even asked for it. There was no menu and no choice about what to eat. She served what was fresh and what she’d prepared that day, which was usually a feast of delicious local dishes. The first time Viggo took Orlando there, the young Englishman had stared at the table groaning under the weight of the many platters she brought, and had asked how many people they there expecting. “Just us,” Viggo had told him, “This is what she considers a small meal. You want to see when she decides it’s time for a feast.”

Food started arriving; dish after dish was placed on the table until there was no room for more. Viggo chatted with their hostess in Spanish while Orlando tried to follow the conversation, and although he caught a word or two he was mostly lost, so he occupied himself sipping wine and picking at the delicious morsels of food on offer. 

A loud exclamation of joy from the woman caught his attention just before she leaned down, hugged his shoulders and kissed him enthusiastically on both cheeks.

“What was that about?” Orlando asked when she had retreated back to the kitchen.

“She told me it was good to see us again,” Viggo explained. “She said it’s been too long since I brought my boyfriend for a meal. I told her you’re soon to my husband, that we’re getting married. She said it’s about time I made an honest man out of you, and now maybe you’ll come here more often and let her fatten you up a bit.” 

Orlando laughed with delight and stretched over the table to kiss Viggo passionately. It felt wonderful to be able to share their happy news and have it enthusiastically received. If they did this back home it would cause the mother of all media storms.

“So was this the secret you’ve been keeping?” he asked as they began to eat. 

Viggo nodded. “Ian’s news was that gay marriage is legal in New Zealand now. He knew that I’d been wanting to make it official with you for a long time now, so when he heard about the new law, he knew the time and the place were perfect. He’s insisting on planning it all though, it’s his wedding present to us he says. All we have to do is turn up on the day.”

“But are you sure that we can do it in New Zealand? Neither of us are citizens.”

“Stop worrying,” Viggo said. 

“I do worry,” Orlando replied, “One does not simply walk into Wellington and get married,” he grinned, throwing out a parody Boromir’s famous and most often quoted line.

“Don’t get cheeky Elf, you’ll get a smack,” Viggo laughed, giving him a gentle kick under the table. “I went to the New Zealand Embassy in London, and PJ helped pull some strings from his side, it’s all arranged, the paper work is being done as we speak.”

“That’s why you stayed an extra day in England?” 

Viggo nodded. “That, and it took longer than expected to find a jeweller who could engrave the ring the way I wanted it done.”

0o0

They arrived back at the villa to the sound of the phone ringing. As a rule Orlando turned his mobile off when he was in Spain and Viggo never carried his with him when Orlando was over.

It was Ian. He only said two words before he hung up. “Skype, now!” 

Viggo turned on his laptop and connected. They saw Ian sitting at his laptop in his dressing room at the theatre in London about to go on stage.

“For God’s sake Viggo the suspense is killing me. Did you ask him yet? Did he say yes?” 

Orlando leaned down over Viggo's shoulder so that his face was in the webcam frame too. 

“He did. And I did,” he said with the biggest smile Ian had ever seen. 

The whooping cheer that Ian yelled out was so loud that they both had to cover their ears, and it brought the theatre manager running into the dressing room to see what had happened to the star of his show. 

 

To be continued……


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

The week he spent in Spain with Viggo went by in a flash, but the next six and a half months felt like the longest of Orlando’s life. He returned to LA and tried to keep as busy as he could. There was a small part in a TV sitcom to film, and his agent, believing that he needed to keep his face in the public eye, made sure he appeared on talk shows and attended as many industry events as she could get him invited to. He also did a lot of charity work, lending his name and face to the good causes he believed in, which were mostly education and animal welfare related. His commitment to the next Pirates film the following year prevented him from taking on any other movie roles that would interfere with the shooting schedule.

Viggo stayed another two months in Spain, inspiration hitting him hard and the need to paint and write poetry overwhelming him. When he arrived back in the States he settled comfortably at his ranch, riding his horses and hiking in the hills when he wasn’t reading through the scripts he had been sent. One or two of them interested him and he went to a few meetings with the producers while he decided if he was going to take the roles or not. Orlando drove up as often as he could and they spent many glorious long weekends together, but never with the freedom they had enjoyed in Spain. Clothing remained on all the time, and they never risked having sex outdoors even under the cover of night. Viggo wasn’t the only celebrity to own property in the foothills of the Santa Ynez mountains, and the paparazzi could be relied upon to be lurking somewhere on the hilly ridge with their telephoto lenses pointed at his house. 

Ian kept in regular contact, but wouldn’t give away any of his plans for the wedding. The only thing that Orlando wasn’t happy about, was finding out that as well as planning everything, Ian insisted on paying for it all too. 

“I cannot allow you to do that,” Orlando said down the phone line to London one evening. 

“Nonsense dear boy,” Ian argued, “I can’t take the money with me when I die and I’ve got nobody else to spend it on.” 

One of the things that few people knew about Sir Ian was how ridiculously wealthy he was. Not only had he made a large fortune from his acting career, but as a young man he had inherited a stupendous amount of money from a rich uncle. Wise investments had seen that sum grow even larger over the decades. 

A week before they were due to fly out to New Zealand, Sean Bean was in Los Angeles to record a voiceover for a documentary. He met Orlando and Viggo for dinner and they told him their wonderful news. 

“Do the others know?” Sean asked. By others, he meant the rest of the Rings cast who were considered as close as family. 

Orlando shook his head. “Ian knows obviously, but nobody else besides you. We want to tell them but not over the phone or by email. It’s too special, plus stuff like that is so easily hacked these days. We want to tell them face to face, so it’ll just have to wait until we can manage to get together at some point.”

0o0

When the departure day finally came, a car arrived at Orlando’s house to pick them up. Viggo had driven down the day before and spent the night. They had been in Orlando’s bed, snuggling after making love when Viggo had suddenly said, “Do you realize the next time we lie in this bed we’re going to be married?”

Orlando was still thinking about that on the drive to the airport, so he didn’t really notice when the car missed the turnoff to Terminal 2 where Air New Zealand operated from until he saw the signs announcing that they were approaching the Private Jet building at Terminal 3.

“What’s going on?” he asked Viggo. 

“This is part of Ian’s wedding present,” Viggo told him with an excited smile. 

Orlando didn’t know whether to be furious with Ian for the extravagance of the gesture, or eternally grateful that they weren’t going to be making the long flight on a commercial airline. 

Their luggage was taken as soon as they stopped outside the private terminal building. They were ushered through check-in and passport control by a friendly woman who led them down a marble-tiled corridor and pointed out the private VIP lounge at the end of it. 

Orlando thought it a bit strange that she didn’t walk all the way to the lounge with them, but his thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice echoing down the hallway. 

“ _Bloom!_ ”

He spun around and stared into the grinning face and impossibly blue eyes of Elijah Wood. 

“Lijah! What the hell are you doing here?” he exclaimed, dropping his bag on the floor and running to hug his Hobbit friend. 

“Come to see you off,” Elijah said when Orlando finally let go of him. “We’re all here.”

Orlando turned to Viggo, but he had picked up Orlando’s bag and was already at the door of the VIP lounge. Orlando followed him and stepped cautiously into the room as Elijah opened the door for them.

“Fucking hell!” he exclaimed when he saw the small crowd of faces grinning back at him. 

When Elijah said we’re all here, he wasn’t kidding. Ian, Sean Bean, Dominic, Liv, and Billy and his wife were all there to greet them. Orlando blubbered words of hello as he wrapped his arms around each of them and held them tightly. This was just so like Ian he thought, such a sweet and thoughtful gesture to complete one of the happiest moments of his life. Yet something about it niggled at the corner of his mind. He pushed the worry aside and tried to find enough words to string a sensible sentence together. 

“Oh God I’m so happy for you two,” Liv said, launching herself at him again and giving him another bone-crushing hug. 

He could feel her body shaking as little sobs escaped her and he felt the warmth of her tears wetting his neck. 

“Hey, don’t cry,” he said, brushing her tears away with his thumb when she released him. 

“Oh don’t mind me, I always cry at weddings,” she said sniffing and laughing at the same time. 

“This isn’t a wedding,” he chuckled, “I haven’t even got on the plane yet.” 

“Then God help me at the ceremony,” Liv replied, looking in her bag for a tissue. 

Something in her words set off a bell in Orlando’s brain and the thing that had niggled at him a moment ago surfaced again. He and Viggo had to go through check-in, security and the emigration desk to get this far. What magic strings had Ian pulled to get all of them into the departure lounge too? Then he took a good look at his gathered friends, studying each one more carefully. 

Elijah was wearing baggy jeans and sneakers and an old faded hoodie. Dominic was in sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt. Ian wore a loose fitting linen suit, Beanie wore jeans and a Sheffield United shirt that looked like it’d been through the wash a hundred times. Liv wore no makeup and had her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. These weren’t a group of people who had come to see their best friends off on a special trip. These were a bunch of people comfortably dressed and about to get on a thirteen hour flight. 

“Are you all coming with us?” Orlando asked Ian in a shuddering, hopeful breath.

“You didn’t think we would miss this for the world did you?” the old actor replied. 

“Did you know about this?” Orlando turned to Viggo. 

“I knew about the private jet, but not that everyone else was coming too,” he replied, looking as stunned and thrilled as Orlando was. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Sean Astin and his wife came rushing through the door. “Traffic was a bitch.” 

There were more hugs, tears and congratulations while Ian popped champagne corks and they all had a much needed drink. 

“When did you all plan this?” Viggo asked. 

“About two months ago,” Sean Bean replied. 

“But we had dinner with you last week, you never said a thing. You told us you were flying back to London the next day.”

“I lied,” Sean smirked. “I’m an actor, it’s what I do.”

0o0

The Gulfstream jet was magnificent. The pilot and co-pilot greeted them at the steps and a flight attendant met them in the cabin. Unlike a normal aircraft with rows of seats, this jet’s interior was configured like a large lounge. Armchairs and sofas faced each other with low tables between them. There was a dining area with a table that seated eight, and near the back were two bathrooms, each with a tiny shower. Behind that was the crew area and the galley. A second flight attendant joined them after dealing with the paperwork and they all settled in for a long, luxuriously comfortable flight.

Drinks and snacks were served after take-off, then the attendants disappeared to the back of the plane, leaving them in privacy and telling them to press the call button if they needed anything. Viggo and Orlando had settled on one sofa with Billy and his wife Ali. Sean and Christine on another, with Dominic and Elijah. Liv, Beanie and Ian were comfortably ensconced in the armchairs. 

Ian explained that they would all be staying for a couple of days and then flying back on the jet together. Orlando and Viggo would be staying longer and had a flight booked back on Air New Zealand in two weeks’ time. Their extended stay was to be their honeymoon, Ian told them. 

“This feels like a honeymoon to us too,” Sean Astin said, “I can’t remember the last time we got to go away without the kids.” 

Everyone with children agreed. They would all miss their little ones dearly, but were looking forward to a few blissful days of grown-up time and company. 

“I still can’t believe this,” Orlando said. He’d kicked off his shoes and was snuggled up on the sofa next to Viggo, his head on his lover’s shoulder. “It’s like going back in time to my favourite place with my favourite people. I can’t thank you all enough for being here, and Ian for making this happen.”

“There’s more,” Ian said with a sly smile.

“Christ I don’t think my nerves can take any more surprises today,” Orlando said. 

“This isn’t everybody,” Ian replied. “PJ and Fran will be joining us in New Zealand, so will Hugo and Karl. Unfortunately John can’t make it because he’s doing the Shakespeare festival in Stratford-upon-Avon. And Andy had to pull out too because he’s directing a film which is behind on schedule, and he simply cannot get away. So I’m afraid that our little reunion is without Gimli and Gollum, but they’ve both made video messages and sent a gift which I’ll give to you later.”

The next couple of hours were a blur of conversations and laughter as they caught up with the events of the past decade of their lives. Marriages had occurred, sadly so had divorces, children had been born and elderly family members lost. Viggo stretched his legs out on the couch and Orlando settled himself between them, leaning back against his chest. He felt comfortable and secure. These were the people who had been there right from the beginning, these were the friends who had nudged them gently into each other’s arms and witnessed their first kisses. These were the people who didn’t blink an eye when they held each other or accidently let slip with a little too much information about their love life. These people were family. 

The flight attendants appeared with menus and brought trays of pre-dinner drinks. Most of them moved to the dining table, while those in the armchairs ate on the tables that cleverly folded out of hidden compartments in the cabin walls. 

“This is the first time in my life I’ve never wanted a flight to end,” Elijah declared as he ate. Everyone agreed. 

Dessert and coffee were offered along with fruit, and cheese and biscuits. Everyone helped themselves. Ali and Chris declined, but Liv said, “Bring it on, I’m on vacation, if I can’t enjoy chocolate cake now, life’s not worth living.” 

After dinner the cabin lights were dimmed and blankets and pillows handed out. The dining table was folded away and the seating around it was turned into comfortable beds for four people. The arm chairs reclined fully and turned into flat beds while the two sofas served as roomy beds for one, or slightly crowded beds for two. Nobody was ready to sleep yet, but they all reclined against pillows and under blankets. It felt like a slumber party from their teenage years. 

Elijah set his laptop up on a table where everybody could see it, and Ian handed him a memory stick. A few seconds later Andy Serkis’ face appeared on the screen and his voice came through the speakers. His words to Viggo and Orlando were beautiful and his wishes for their happiness were heartfelt. He read out a poem which brought tears to Viggo’s eyes. The video finished playing and Elijah started the next one.

John’s image appeared, he was sitting in a garden under a cloudy English sky. “Well laddie, you’ve finally decided to take the plunge with that filthy human have you? Aye, it’s about time Master Elf.” 

It was so strange to hear Gimli’s voice and words coming out of John’s mouth without seeing him under layers of prosthetic makeup and wigs. The rest of his video was charming though, he reminisced about the beginning of their relationship and gave them good solid advice on how to stay happy and in love with each other for the rest of their lives. 

Orlando and Viggo were smiling by the end of it, but Liv was sniffing again. 

“Now?” Elijah asked, turning to Ian. 

“Yes, I think now is a good time,” Ian said.

Elijah clicked on the play button and a beautiful tropical beach appeared on the screen. The camera panned across azure water and palm trees swaying in the breeze. Someone held up a note in front of the camera which read, ‘Wish you were here.’ 

Then the camera began to turn and someone said, “Well it’s about bloody time you two got hitched.” 

Henry’s voice came through the speakers a second before his beaming face appeared on the screen. Viggo’s eyes were wide with shock and he uttered a sound like a choked hiccup. 

“So a little birdy tells me you’re in need of a Best Man for the big day?” Henry said to the camera with a smile. “Just so happens that same little birdy sent me a ticket to New Zealand, so I guess I’ll be seeing you in a few weeks… or days… or hours, depending on when you watch this.” He paused for a moment looking intently into the camera. “And don’t cry Dad. He’s crying isn’t he? Someone slap him.” Then Henry laughed and blew a kiss before he turned the camera back to the beautiful beach scene. 

Tears spilled down Viggo’s face and he didn’t try to stop them. Orlando hugged him close and he buried his face in Orlando’s neck. He wasn’t the only one shedding tears either, Ian was dabbing his eyes and Liv was blowing her nose. 

“Bloody hell, I’m not going to be able to wear mascara this entire trip,” she chuckled as she wiped her eyes. 

“Well that’s Viggo sorted,” Dom said. “Orli better ask Frodo to be his Best Man, he can probably be trusted to get the wedding ring to New Zealand. He got The One Ring all the way to Mordor after all,” he joked. 

“Not without a crap-load of help from me he didn’t,” Sean Astin cut in and they all laughed.

“You do need to pick somebody though,” Ian told them seriously. “You must have a witness each to accompany you in front of the official performing the ceremony, it’s a legal requirement.”

Orlando looked at Ian.

“No, not me dear heart, choose one of the young ones to walk this path with you.”

Orlando looked at the four he still thought of collectively as “The Hobbits” - each one was special to him in their own way, his bond with each as strong and deep as the next. It was impossible to choose one of them above the others. 

“Liv? Would you?” he asked, turning to her with a hopeful smile. It felt right. They had always been close, always been friends, she had been a fellow Elf. They were the same age, but when they arrived in New Zealand she’d had more work experience on big film sets and her maternal instincts had kicked in, she’d taken him under her wing and she’d always been fiercely protective of him. Even now years later, she still felt the need to look after him. The choice felt right. It was perfect. There was nobody he would rather have had at his side.

“It would be my honour _mellon nin_ ,” she replied, blinking furiously to stop a fresh set of tears from falling. 

 

To be continued….

[ ](http://photobucket.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX.

The animated talk had quietened to a soft murmur as the flight wore on. They sat in twos and threes, chatting until exhaustion won its battle against sleepy eyelids. Billy and Ali took two of the sofa-beds in the dining area. Sean Astin and Christine, the other two. Liv had reclined her armchair all the way back and was asleep under her blanket.

“This is why you must never have kids,” Dom said, pointing to their slumbering companions who all happened to be the ones with young families. “It makes you old and tired before your time.” 

“I’m about ready to shut my eyes too,” Orlando said, “We should all try to get some sleep.”

“You just want us to go to sleep so that you two can crack your membership to the Mile High Club,” Elijah giggled, giving Orlando a knowing look. 

“Go on, don’t mind us,” Dom winked, pointing his phone at them. “I’ll film it so the others don’t miss the show.” 

“If we were going to do that, we wouldn’t give you bunch of pervs a show, we’d do it privately,” Viggo said. He gave Dominic a look that warned him not to mention the time, half a year ago, at Ian’s party in London when Viggo and Orlando had indeed put on a show of public sex for all the world to see. But their secret was safe with him. Of their small family of Rings friends, Dom was the only one who also attended Ian’s parties and he had enough secrets of his own to keep. He wasn’t going to say anything to anyone about what he’d seen them do there. 

“I wouldn’t bother trying it in the bathroom mate,” Dom told him. “Not enough room. I did it once, whacked my cock on the edge of the basin, not a good experience at all.”

“Having a solo wank in an airplane toilet doesn’t qualify as joining the Mile High Club,” Sean Bean snorted. 

“Sounds like you know?” Elijah smirked. 

“As a matter of fact, I do.” 

“You’ve never! Have you?” Elijah didn’t believe him. 

“I have,” Sean said slyly. “It was back in ninety-nine on a Concorde flight to New York.” 

“I had no idea the third Mrs. Bean was so adventurous,” Ian quipped. 

“She wasn’t. It was with an air hostess,” Sean admitted. 

“Ah,” Ian nodded his head sagely. “Probably why she became the ex-Mrs Bean so soon after.” 

Sean shrugged sheepishly.

“Still, that makes you the only guy I know who’s ever come at supersonic speed. Kudos man,” Elijah grinned.

“Coming faster than the speed of sound isn’t really something to be proud of,” Dominic teased. “Thought you had more staying power than that.”

“Geez, you guys haven’t changed one bit,” said Liv who had woken up and eavesdropped on the conversation.

0o0

“We could do it you know,” Viggo whispered in Orlando’s ear later when everyone else had fallen asleep and they were settled on their sofa under a warm blanket. He pulled the drawstring of Orlando’s loose trousers and slipped his hand inside. No underwear. Viggo purred with approval.

“Join the Mile High Club?” Orlando snuggled closer. “Yeah, we could.” 

“Got to be quiet though.” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

Orlando undid Viggo's fly and pulled his zipper down. His jeans were old and well worn; the material was so soft and pliable that it was easily pushed aside as he reached in for Viggo’s cock. Orlando’s fingers brushed against smooth, hairless skin.

“Mmm, you shaved, I love that.” 

“For you,” Viggo nuzzled his ear as Orlando’s palm pressed against him, rubbing slowly, drawing a flush of arousal to his growing erection. 

“Is the lube in your carry-on?” Orlando asked.

“Oh shit, no, it’s in the other bag in the hold,” Viggo grumbled.

“Wait, I’ve got an idea, gimme a second,” Orlando pushed himself back into his pants and knotted the tie, then he disappeared into the small toilet cubicle and came back with a handful of tissues and the bottle of hand lotion from the washbasin. 

“It might not strictly qualify as Mile High because you won’t be inside me, but we’re still gonna have an orgasm at forty thousand feet,” Orlando whispered, climbing back under the blanket and squirting hand lotion into his palm. He began to masturbate Viggo as they kissed. 

“Get your cock out too,” Viggo murmured as he squeezed lotion into his own hand. 

They took their time, stroking each other slowly and silently, their tongues playing together in an endless kiss. 

“Oh yes baby,” Viggo suddenly hissed. “So close now, go a little faster.”

Orlando’s hand sped up. He heard Viggo take a deep breath and hold it, all his concentration focused on chasing his orgasm. 

“Come for me baby. Come in my hand,” Orlando crooned, pushing his tongue playfully into Viggo's ear.

With a quiet grunt, Viggo filled his lover’s hand with his release, its warmth seeping through Orlando’s fingers. It was enough to send Orli over the edge too, and with a final thrust through Viggo's fist, he spilled his climax into Viggo’s palm. 

In the dimness of the cabin, a pair of eyes watched them intently. Even concealed by the blanket, Ian had no doubt what was happening between Viggo and Orlando. He watched their rhythmic movements and listened to their soft sighs, and thought back poignantly to the first time he had laid eyes on the young Brit. 

Orlando had been doing what Orlando always did - moving at incredible speed, a blur of energy in motion. For the first two days of rehearsals on set, Ian had wondered if the boy ever stood still at all. He seemed to constantly be bouncing around all over the place, never walking when he could run and never running when he could sprint. But when the clapperboard snapped and Peter yelled action and the cameras started rolling, all that boundless energy magically dissipated and Orlando stood still, very still. Legolas barely moved at all and when he did, he stalked with feline grace. Even in the fight scenes when the humans and dwarves were slashing and thrashing, Legolas used his bow and swung his sword with elegant precision. Suddenly Ian found he couldn’t take his eyes off him. 

That he was so young and beautiful only added to Ian’s attraction. And the fact that Orlando seemed drawn to him too, only served to flatter his ego. He often found Orlando seated beside him at the lunch table, or waiting outside his trailer at the end of the day. He had a thirst for knowledge that Ian found unusual but so very delightful in one so young. Orlando wanted to learn, he wanted to know everything. He had so many questions, but he also had the ability to listen to advice, to absorb it and to apply it. On set, Ian became frustrated when more experienced actors were stopped mid-take by Peter, who told them how he wanted them to change the way they were playing the scene, only for them to do the same incorrect thing over and over in take after take, wasting an enormous amount of time. But Orlando seemed to soak up direction like a sponge. He listened to everything Peter told him, asking questions, checking, making sure he got it right. He brought a work ethic to the set that impressed Ian. Orlando knew when it was time to play and when it was time to knuckle down and work. He never turned up late or without knowing his lines, even after a wild night out on the town. And boy, did they have some wild nights out. 

In magical, mystical New Zealand Ian had found an energy and youthful exuberance that he hadn’t felt in years. He found himself, at three in the morning, out with the youngest cast members dancing to music he had never heard before. He joined them as they sought out new adventures and activities, but left the actual skydiving and bungee jumping to them. Orlando’s energy and enthusiasm were infectious, as were his smile and his soft, expressive eyes. Ian soon succumbed to their spell. And to his delight he found that as much as Orlando loved being part of a boisterous bundle of Hobbits, he also loved the silence and solitude of reading his book on the riverbank while Ian sat next to him and painted, a hobby he had taken up again during their breaks in filming. 

But his greatest delight by far, besides the heart-lifting sound of Orlando's laughter, had been his discovery that the boy was freely and physically affectionate. Friendly hugs and platonic kisses were easily given and happily received. In time, short hugs turned to longer embraces, chaste kisses were met with a quickening of the pulse, and tentative caresses were received without rejection. About to turn sixty and with a boy in his early twenties seemingly happy in his arms, Ian had been ready for whatever treasured blessings life was about to bestow on him. 

But his eyes were not the only ones that had turned in Orlando's direction. 

Ian had been fascinated by Viggo from the moment he stepped into the role of Aragorn. He’d never seen an actor approach a part with quite the dedication and conviction that Viggo did. He lived, slept and breathed the character. He didn’t just embrace Aragorn, he became Aragorn. And the same conspiring film schedule that had brought Orlando into Ian’s world, now took him from it. He spent two months in breathtaking scenery filming his battle with Saruman and riding with Pippin to Minas Tirith, while Aragorn and Legolas tried to defend Helms Deep on another set in another part of the country. By the time their schedules overlapped again, Orlando was sitting at Viggo's side at lunch and reading his book silently while Viggo fished. It was a disappointing development but not entirely unexpected. Viggo was magnetically masculine, fascinatingly intense, and maddeningly complicated. Orlando was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

What Ian had found the most surprising, perhaps even shocking, was how easily he found himself turning from wanting to welcome Orlando into his arms, to wanting to see him happy in Viggo's embrace instead. There was an undeniable sparkle to Orlando’s smile, a brighter light in his eyes whenever Viggo was near and Ian did not wish to see that brightness diminish. So when Viggo invited Ian for a quiet drink and a serious chat about the situation one evening, he found himself stepping aside with dignity instead of putting up a fight for a boy he would never win. And to Viggo's credit, Ian had to admit, he acted as a perfect gentleman throughout. The only thing that changed at the end of it all was that Orlando went to Viggo's bed instead of Ian’s. Their affectionate relationship remained unchanged. Orlando still sought him out for advice, still greeted him with hugs and kisses, still laughed hysterically at his stories and sat in comfortable, companionable silence whenever time allowed them the luxury of a moment alone together. 

Ian never did get to know the feel of Orlando’s naked body in his arms or share his cries of climax, but to his surprise he enjoyed watching Viggo discover those things. It was he who had nudged them gently towards the next step in their growing love for each other by inviting them to his parties, where the freedom and erotic atmosphere allowed them to explore those first passionate kisses and heated, groping fondles. It was he, who when the time came that Orlando seemed to be crying out for more, and Viggo too afraid of losing the treasure he had found by pushing him too fast, had taken matters into his own hands. The private party that night had started off as they all did, good food, good wine, good music and beautiful men indulging their desires for each other. Orlando was flirting, seducing, pleading with his gestures, begging with his eyes, and still Viggo was dragging his feet. Ian had pressed the key to a private upstairs suite into his hand and said, “For God’s sake Viggo take the boy to bed, suck his cock, finger his ass. Do something, do _anything_. Just put him out of his misery.” 

They had filmed the King of Gondor’s coronation the next day and Ian recalled watching the dailies with PJ that evening. The way they had looked at each other on screen, the way Orlando glowed and Viggo looked like he was still trying to get his head around how deeply he’d fallen in love. It was a beauty to behold. Ian remembered seeing the dreamy look in Orlando’s eyes and thinking, ‘I don’t know what Viggo did to that boy last night, but he doesn’t look like he’s come back down to earth yet.’ Only a blind fool could watch that scene and not see that something profound had happened between the two of them.

And now, here we all are, Ian thought satisfaction, as he heard the stifled cry of Orlando’s orgasm, we’re flying somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, heading for a small island nation to unite these two in a marriage that I have had the privilege and pleasure to arrange for them. 

“Maybe it’s the altitude but that felt fucking fantastic,” Viggo husked, still trying to steady his breathing. 

They giggled like naughty teens as they mopped up and wiped themselves clean with the tissues Orlando had brought. 

“Be back in a sec, I’m just going to flush these and put the hand cream back,” Orlando whispered, slipping away silently to the tiny bathroom.

Ian waited until Viggo had settled back on the sofa and closed his eyes before he quietly got up and followed Orlando down the length of the aircraft cabin. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Orlando asked when he stepped out of the cubicle.

“No dear boy, I just wanted to stretch my legs,” Ian replied. 

Orlando moved closer and slid his arms around Ian’s waist, hugging him close and resting his head on his shoulder.

“You know I can never thank you enough for what you’re doing here, don’t you?”

“No thanks are required darling. It’s my privilege and my pleasure to do this for the two of you,” Ian replied as he slid his hands down Orlando’s back and cupped his buttocks, pulling his pelvis into contact with his own body. 

Orlando hissed and jerked his hips away.

“Ah, still sensitive from the lovely hand job you’ve just had?” 

“You watched us?” Orlando giggled, nuzzling Ian’s neck. “You old pervert.” 

“You know I can never resist watching two gorgeous men pleasure each other,” Ian replied. It wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed their intimacy, he had seen them suck each other off at many of his parties, and had watched them fuck at his last party in London. He’d even helped clean Orlando up afterwards.

“I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done for us Ian. Viggo and I both are.” 

“I know dear heart,” Ian said, softly kissing the side of Orlando’s head. “Now go back to your lover’s arms and get some sleep.”

0o0

The private jet landed at Wellington airport in the middle of the morning. Two helicopters were waiting to ferry them the short hop to their final destination, which Ian was still keeping a secret. Twenty minutes later they descended into the forest canopy and landed on a helipad close to the edge of a cliff. Peter, Fran and Hugo were waiting there to meet them. Orlando threw his arms around the director and his wife, Liv ran into Hugo’s arms shouting “Ada!” and laughing as he picked her up and twirled her around. Happy reunions, hugs and kisses continued as their baggage was transferred from the choppers to the mini-bus. Climbing into the vehicle, more than one of them commented that it felt like they were being driven out to location back in the old days.

After a short drive along a winding track, they parked in front of the biggest and most spectacular house Orlando had ever seen. Perched on the side of the cliff it was all jutting angles and floor to ceiling glass with spectacular views of the ocean. Next to it, an enormous pool sparkled as blue as the infinite sky, and off to the side of the deck was the path that led to the steep steps down the cliff to a private beach. The interior was an expanse of marble floors, modern art and minimalist design. 

“This is incredible. Where are we?” Orlando asked. 

“It’s a little private getaway that Hugo has a share in,” Ian told him, and rattled off a list of other well-known names who shared ownership. “Very secluded and very private, the perfect place for our upcoming celebration. The use of the house is part of Hugo’s wedding gift to you.” 

“Look at this view baby,” Viggo said, taking Orlando’s hand and leading him out onto the vast balcony that jutted out over the cliff. 

“It’s the best place to watch the sunset,” Hugo said as he joined them. “In fact I think we’ll have sundowners out here this evening before dinner.”

Viggo was still mesmerized by the sight of nothing but ocean between him the horizon when a hand fell on his shoulder from behind, and voice said, “Dad…”

He didn’t think he’d ever hugged Henry so tight and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to let him go. Henry had grown up a long time ago, but Viggo still saw him as his little boy, the son he loved more than life itself. He wanted to tell him how much it meant that he was here for this special event, but he was so choked up and his throat so constricted that the words would not come out. 

“You’ve come a long way, you must be tired,” Fran said, “Let me show you to your rooms.” 

The house accommodated sixteen comfortably and there were three en-suite rooms above the pool-house too. Beanie, Elijah and Dom were taken to those.

“This suits me down to the ground,” Sean said as he stepped out onto his private balcony. “I might never leave here.” 

Fran took everybody else up the impressive marble staircase and got them settled in their rooms in the main house. “Liv, you’re in here and Billy and Ali are in this room. The master bedroom is here,” she said leading Orlando and Viggo to the huge double doors at the end of the corridor. 

“Ah yes, about that,” Liv said. “The girls and I have had a little chat and we’ve decided we’re going to do this the old fashioned way.” She tilted her head towards Ali and Christine who nodded in agreement. “Orli and Vig must be in separate rooms until after tomorrow.”

“Dad can share with me for tonight,” Henry offered. “My room’s got two double beds.” 

“You’re kidding right? Please tell me you don’t agree with this insanity?” Orland called after Viggo who was already following Henry to his room.

“Never argue with a woman who’s made her mind up,” Viggo laughed and blew a kiss at his lover. Secretly he liked the idea. It meant that when he took Orlando to bed for the first time in New Zealand, their marriage would be legal and official. And that would make it all the more special he thought. 

Some of them went exploring and some slept. Viggo was tired, but spending time with his son was more important. Orlando lay down on his bed alone and thought he’d rest for a few minutes before he started to unpack. When he woke up it was four hours later. 

He had a quick shower and pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Wandering around the house he found Fran, PJ and Sean Bean sitting by the pool, chatting and drinking beers. Ian and Hugo were in the lounge having a grand old natter. They’d made their names on screen, but their shared first love was the theatre, and their mutual love of the stage had made firm friends of them during the making of Rings. They had kept in contact ever since but hadn’t seen each other face to face in years. 

The rest of them were down at the beach. Orlando picked his way carefully down the rough steps cut into the rock face and found Viggo and Henry fishing while Liv, the Hobbits and their wives were all beachcombing, bent over in the shallow lapping waves, scanning the sand for something. 

“What are you looking for?” Orlando asked as he approached. 

“Go away, we’re busy,” they told him, so he snuck up behind Viggo and slid his arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder while Viggo cast his fishing line into the waves. 

“Catch anything?” 

“Not a damn thing, but Henry got three that we released back already.” 

The sound of a helicopter landing drew their attention for a moment. “That’ll probably be Karl,” Henry said. 

He was proved right a little while later when the handsome actor and his wife descended the steps to the beach. Besides Orlando, Karl had been Viggo’s closest friend on set. Their mutual love for horses and the great outdoors had cemented their friendship, and after the film had wrapped they had spent some time trekking through the wilderness together. It was with great affection that they hugged each other now. 

Following Karl and Natalie down to the beach was a tall woman with short blonde hair. She descended the steep steps with all the regal grace and elegance that she had shown when she walked down a Lothlorien staircase when playing Galadriel. 

“Cate!” Liv called out and greeted her with a hug. “We didn’t think you’d be here. Ian told us you were on stage in Sydney.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” the Australian actress replied, giving both Orlando and Viggo a kiss. “My understudy is going on for me tonight and tomorrow. I’ve got to be back the next day, but there was no way I wasn’t going to be here.” 

“Thank you,” Orlando said, kissing her cheek again. “It means so much to me that you came.” 

Dinner that evening was a relaxed, informal affair. They had drinks on the deck while they watched the sunset and Hugo fired up the grill, claiming that no self-respecting Aussie would entertain his friends without treating them to a barbeque. Everybody helped to make the salads and side dishes. They pushed the outdoor tables together to make one long one and ate outside by candlelight on the pool deck. 

People wandered off as the evening wore on. Some stayed at the table and chatted, some had coffee or sipped brandy in the lounge. A poker game started around the dining table inside. Some read and some watched the sports channel on the television. Orlando sat with Viggo and Henry in a quiet corner of the lounge listening to tales of his travels around Thailand, which was where he’d been when Ian tracked him down and sent him a ticket to New Zealand.

By midnight, everybody was in bed and most were asleep. Orlando missed the feel of Viggo’s body next to him, but after so many years with most of their time spent apart, he was used to sleeping by himself. 

In the morning Orlando wandered downstairs, tousle-haired and sleepy eyed, and found himself reliving a long forgotten memory. Liv loved to cook, and during filming she’d started the tradition of making a huge meal once a week for the cast and crew. There were no formal invitations, anybody who wanted to stop by was welcome. The food was set out in the kitchen and everybody just helped themselves. On Sundays she did breakfast and people strolled in all through the morning helping themselves to food and staying to enjoy the sunshine and the beach. 

He found her now, happy and busy in the kitchen, juicing oranges and keeping an eye on the pastries and croissants that were warming in the oven. 

“Coffee’s ready if you want some, or you can make yourself some tea. Juice is almost done, pastries won’t be a minute and there’s fresh bread if you want toast.”

Orlando kissed her cheek as he stood next to her and started helping her slice fruit onto big white serving platters.

“Are you nervous about later?” she asked.

“Excited,” Orlando replied. 

He ate a bowl of fruit for breakfast and had some tea, then put on his swimming trunks, grabbed a towel, and joined the others heading down to spend the morning at the beach. 

“I can’t believe you and Vig are going to get married right here on this beach this afternoon,” Elijah said after they’d been for a swim and were stretched out in the sun. 

“And by tomorrow they’ll be fucking like bunnies all over here,” Dom smirked. 

“No way man. Sand… I learned that lesson a long time ago,” Orlando shuddered. 

“Oh my God, I remember that time,” Elijah said, hooting with laughter. “Oh Lij help me, I can’t get it out Lij, It’s killing me, how am I gonna ride my horse tomorrow? It’s like I’ve got glass up my ass. It hurts Lij!” 

They all howled at his terrible impersonation of Orlando’s accent. 

Orlando remembered it too. It wasn’t a pleasant memory. He and Viggo had snuck off early one morning before sunrise and had sex on the beach. Sand had got in everywhere, but too deep in the throes of passion to stop, they had paid the price later. That night on set while Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli trod gingerly on ancient bones as they entered the mountain to summon the army of the dead, Viggo had leaned into Orlando’s ear and whispered.

“Let’s not do the beach thing again. My cock feels like it’s been sandpapered.” 

“You got off lightly then!” Orlando had hissed back at him. “I’m not going to be able to sit for a week.”

He ran his fingers through the golden sand as he lay there thinking about it. That same Kiwi sand that had caused him so much trouble and pain all those years ago was going to be under his bare feet this afternoon as he said ‘I do’ and bound his life to Viggo's forever. 

 

To be continued…


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Liv knocked on Orlando’s door and entered his room. He was standing in front of the mirror studying his reflection.

“Perfect,” she said coming to stand behind him. 

He was dressed all in white, his hair hung loose around his shoulders, soft curls framing his face. His white silk shirt skimmed over the hips of his tight white jeans. It was unbuttoned far enough to reveal a deep V of tanned skin. Around his neck he wore a silver chain and his black leather chord with all its charms. His feet were bare. 

Liv’s feet were bare too. She wore a floaty white dress and had a buttery yellow hibiscus flower tucked behind her ear, Orlando’s favourite colour. 

“Ready?” she asked, running her hands down his arms.

“Been ready for this moment for fourteen years,” he smiled. “Have we got everything we need?” 

“A ring for you to put on Viggo's finger,” Liv replied, opening her hand to show him. “And tissues for me,” she waved her other hand. 

Orlando kissed her cheek and took one last look at himself in the mirror before they turned towards the door.

“Come and see,” Liv said as they walked through the lounge.

They stood at the enormous window that overlooked the beach. The sun was starting to set and all their friends were gathered there. Ian had asked everybody to wear white; they looked mythical and ethereal, like they had stepped out of a fairy-tale. A bamboo pergola had been erected and decorated with a profusion of yellow bougainvillea flowers. 

As they watched, Orlando caught a glimpse of Henry and Viggo going down the steps to the beach. Viggo wore loose white linen trousers and a tight white t-shirt with a white shirt hanging open over it. They walked slowly across the beach to the gathered crowd. Orlando unconsciously reached out to them, his fingers coming to rest on the cool pane of glass. When Viggo and his son reached the pergola they stood in front of it, just off to one side. 

“It’s time,” Liv said gently taking Orlando’s hand. 

The sand felt soft and warm underneath his feet. Liv’s hand in his was comforting and grounding. He arrived at Viggo's side just as the sun sank low enough to turn the ocean into liquid gold and bathe the beach in a gentle, glowing light. The setting sun flecked Viggo's hair with golden highlights and reflected a gilded glow off Orlando’s skin. Turning his head, Orlando gazed into his lover’s sapphire-flecked eyes. Viggo smiled the softest, most loving smile at him, and mouthed the words “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Orlando mouthed back. 

The minister who was going to perform the ceremony smiled and greeted them, then he addressed Liv and Henry. 

“I believe you have something to give, before we start?”

“We want you to have these,” Liv said softly. “A gift from all of us.” 

She held out her hand and in her palm lay the perfectly spiralled half of a small seashell, the exposed inner twisting coil flawlessly formed. Henry’s hand held its identical twin. 

“The Maoris call this twist a _Pikorua_. It’s their symbol for everlasting love and an eternal bond,” Henry said. 

“We want you to wear them around your necks, but for today just hold them in your hands,” Liv said, gently pressing the shell into Orlando’s left hand. Henry placed the other into his father’s right hand and folded his fingers closed around it. 

Viggo swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He had never been so deeply touched by such a simple gesture. The fact that they had incorporated his immense love of nature, and a culture that he had come to have the utmost respect for, into this special day meant everything to him. He cupped Henry’s face in his hand and kissed his cheek before the boy went to stand back with their friends.

Orlando clasped the shell in his fist, realizing that this was what Liv and the others had been searching for along the waterline the day before when they had told him to go away. He loved the idea that he would forever wear something picked up by those he loved most, from the beach where he had married the man he loved more than anyone. He kissed Liv softly on the lips and she dabbed a tear from her eye as she took a step back and joined the rest of the crowd. 

The minister motioned for them to come forward and they stepped under the flower-laden pergola. With a smile he welcomed the guests and began to address them.

“Dear friends, we stand here today to celebrate the love of Viggo and Orlando, and to witness their official union in lawful marriage. They are truly blessed to find themselves among so many dearly loved friends in the beautiful country where their love first began so many years ago. I dare say it has been a long and adventurous path that has led you from these shores halfway around the world and back again. We in New Zealand are very happy and proud that you have found your way back to us to share this most special day.”

Murmurs of agreement rose as hands clapped behind them. 

“To commemorate this happy blessing, and instead of a religious reading, Henry has chosen to write a poem for the two of you, which he will now read.” 

This was a wonderfully unexpected surprise. Viggo’s mouth dropped open and Orlando pressed himself close to Viggo's side, lacing their fingers together and clasping his hand tightly. As Henry read his beautiful heartfelt words Orlando’s cheeks ached from smiling so much, but Viggo's emotions got the better of him as he listened to his son’s words, happy tears ran down his cheeks. Behind them, Liv was sharing her tissues with Cate as they wiped eyes that refused to stay dry. 

A louder round of applause rose at the end of the poem and Viggo looked at his boy with such love that he thought his heart would burst. It was time for the official part of the ceremony and as everybody stood in silent anticipation, the minister began:

“Viggo, do you take Orlando as your lawfully wedded spouse? Do you promise to share your life with him, to love him and dutifully care for him in all the varying circumstances of your life, in sorrow and in joy for as long as you both shall live?”

Viggo looked at Orlando with utter devotion.

“I do,” he said, “Yes I absolutely do.”

“Orlando, do you take Viggo as your lawfully wedded spouse? Do you promise to share your life with him, to love him and dutifully care for him in all the varying circumstances of your life, in sorrow and in joy for as long as you both shall live?”

“Yes. Yes I do,” Orlando squeezed Viggo's hand tightly. “I do.”

The minister smiled and nodded. “May we have the rings please?” 

Liv and Henry stepped forward. Liv placed the ring in Orlando’s hand and he turned to face Viggo. They stood close together, their hands held and their bodies pressed tightly against each other. Their heads were tilted together as Orlando pressed his lips to Viggo’s ear and whispered the short vows they had written for each other. As he spoke, he slipped the ring onto the ring finger of Viggo’s left hand. When he had finished, Viggo turned to Henry and took the ring he had proposed to Orlando with so many months ago. He whispered his vows into Orlando’s ear as he eased the beautifully crafted band onto Orlando's finger. All the love he felt for him radiating from his heart through his fingers into it

They had chosen to do it this way, their whispered vows for each other’s ears and hearts only. A private promise shared only by the two of them. 

As they lifted their heads and gazed at each other, the minister raised his hand and signed a blessing over them. The sun had just dipped below the horizon as he made his happy pronouncement. 

“It is my great pleasure to now pronounce you legally wed. You may kiss each other. Make it a good one,” he said with a grin and a mischievous wink. 

A roar of cheers and applause broke out as Viggo cupped Orlando’s face in his hands and dipped his head towards him. He heard Orlando sigh as their lips touched and locked together. He felt Orli’s body melting against him as his mouth gently opened and his new husband’s tongue caressed his. The kiss lasted a very long time and someone in the crowd wolf-whistled. When they parted they found themselves wrapped in a sea of arms as they were hugged, kissed and congratulated. There were as many happy tears as there was laughter. 

Orlando grabbed Henry and pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you so much,” he said. “You have no idea what that poem meant to your dad.” 

There were just a few more formalities to perform and the wedding party made their way up the steep cliff stairs back to the house. Viggo, Orlando, Henry and Liv accompanied the minister into the house where they signed the documents that made their union binding in the eyes of the law. Everybody else spilled out to the pool deck where they began popping champagne corks, and grabbing handfuls of confetti to toss at the happy couple when they made their appearance a few moments later. 

The pool area looked magical. Someone had lit lanterns and candles, they were everywhere, floating in the pool and hanging from strings overhead. A long table had been laid with a pristine white cloth and silverware that shone as brightly as the crystal glasses that sparkled at each place setting. Endless toasts were drunk and flashbulbs popped from all directions. Orlando was sure that more photographs were taken that evening than on any red carpet he had ever been on. 

“Do you know what they said for their vows?” Fran asked Henry as she poured champagne.

Henry shook his head. “No, but I do know that they said them in Sindarin.” 

“What an unusual and lovely idea,” she replied.

“Orli always loved the Elvish dialogue he had to learn for his role, and Dad has a thing about hearing him speak it. He always said the scenes where their characters spoke Elvish to each other turned him on,” Henry laughed.

The delicious smell of food wafted across the pool deck as enormous platters were carried to the table. 

“We debated long and hard about this, Ian and I,” Hugo told the happy couple. “Remember that Italian place on Elizabeth Street we always used to go to?”

It was impossible to forget. It had become a firm favourite with the cast and crew and they’d eaten there at least once a week. Hugo had wanted them all to go there for old time’s sake, but Ian knew if they all turned up in public it wouldn’t be long before the news got out and they’d be hounded by the press for the rest of their stay. He wanted nothing to spoil this for Orli and Vig, so in the end they convinced the restaurant owner to close for the night and send his chef out to the house. And by the look of the dishes arriving, freshly made and piping hot to the table, it had been worth every very expensive penny it had cost. 

They ate, they laughed, they talked. The food was just as good as they remembered it, maybe even better. The sound of Orlando's laughter brought joy to Viggo's heart as he watched him out of the corner of his eye. He was always smiling, always happy, but never more relaxed than he was tonight in the company of the people he loved the most. His fingers played constantly with his new wedding ring, touching it and turning it on his finger. Viggo found himself doing the same. 

The ring Orlando had given him was beautiful. Made of silver, it was a broad latticework of delicate intertwining threads. It almost looked organic, like the lacy interwoven vines in a forest. It was exactly the sort of design one might find all over Rivendell. When he looked at it closely for the first time, Viggo saw that the curling, looping threads were in fact the letters V and O repeated over and over again, threading through each other, woven together in an eternal circle of love. Viggo had loved it from the moment Orlando slipped it onto his finger, but when Orlando told him that he had designed it himself, and a neighbour who crafts silver jewellery for a living had helped him to make it, Viggo's heart melted.

At the end of the meal, Peter stood up and tapped a spoon on his wine glass. 

“Everyone, can I have your attention please?” 

Silence settled over the table as they turned to face him. 

“Ian has asked me to say a few words and a raise a toast to our happy couple. Although I don’t know why I got the job of doing the speech when he had all you actors and actresses who speak to audiences for a living to choose from,” Peter joked. “Well what can I say about these two that hasn’t already been said in the tabloids?”

Everyone laughed and gave them a few knowing looks. 

“It’s honestly been the greatest pleasure, both working with you and knowing you in your private lives. I remember the first time I met Orlando when he came out here for archery and sword training, and riding lessons before we started shooting. I have to admit that I was sceptical about taking on such a young and inexperienced actor straight out of drama school, and when I first laid eyes on him he was running around a field, covered in mud and swinging a sword like a lunatic. And I thought what the hell has my casting director done to me? But when he stepped onto set that first day completely transformed into the Elf, I was spellbound. And from the first fight scene, watching him wield that bow, well I think I can honestly say I’ve never believed in anybody more.” 

There was a chorus of “Here, here!” and nods of agreement. Orlando blushed and Viggo leaned over and kissed the side of his neck. 

“And then there’s Viggo,” Peter continued. “I think you all know the background to the despair I was in after the first casting of Aragorn. I got a call and somebody said to me, Viggo Mortensen, give him a try for the role. I’d seen Viggo’s previous work and I already knew he was a brilliant actor, but I wasn’t sure the audiences would have enough sympathy for Aragorn if they already knew Viggo from the slightly unhinged and downright nasty characters he’d played before. But when they sent me his hair and makeup test shots I saw nothing of the actor, I only saw the character. And the first day he arrived on set, I knew we had found the man who had been born to play the part. And the rest as they say is history. But like history it’s had its ups and downs and half the grey hairs I have today can be attributed to these two. I first got wind of Orlando’s extra-curricular activities when the gaffer arrived on set one morning with a video of my elf and my hobbits, bungee jumping off the most stupendously high bridge they could find. Then I started to hear stories of sky-diving, surfing, and snowboarding. And I thought, good Lord, he’s going to kill himself and half my cast with him. But in the end he survived all his escapades and the only injury Orli ever suffered was cracking his rib on set. Viggo on the other hand… two broken toes, a tooth knocked out, and a surf-board-to-the-face incident so bad that I had to shoot an entire scene with him side-on to the camera to hide his black eye and bruises.”

“Technically the surfboard thing was the Hobbits fault for dragging me out there in the first place,” Viggo grinned and winked at Dom, Billy and Elijah.

“I think I remember Orlando being the one who insisted you go surfing with us,” Elijah replied with mock indignity.

“And speaking of surfing incidents involving Mr. Bloom,” Peter said, continuing his interrupted speech. “I remember when we were a month and a half into the night shoots for Helm’s Deep. All I asked of him was that he ran from up here to down there as fast as he could and get off as many arrows as he could on the way. But when you’re Orlando you never think of doing something in a simple way when you can be crazy about it instead, so in the break he comes to me and says, ‘You know what would be really brilliant? If Leggy jumped on the back of a shield and surfed down the steps shooting Orcs as he went.’ I thought he’d lost his bloody mind. How wrong was I? The audiences bloody loved Legolas’ stair-surfing scene.” 

“Told you,” Orlando grinned, teasing PJ with an extra smug look.

“You weren’t alone in aging me prematurely either. Fran will remember this well. We were only a couple of months in and we did the Gondor Coronation. I went home and said ‘Frannie, I’m in trouble, my King is falling in love with his leading man instead of his leading lady. I’m going to have to reshoot the entire scene, I can’t use any of it. Even when he’s kissing Arwen, Aragorn only has eyes for Legolas. She watched the dailies and wouldn’t let me reshoot it, she said it was a beautiful testament to their love and I wasn’t to change a single frame of it. To this day, when fans come up to me to talk about that scene, half of them say they genuinely thought Aragorn and Legolas were about to get married when the Elves arrive, and Leggy is standing there in his silver robe and his gold coronet looking every inch the Elf bride. But now they have married, and while it might have taken them a long time to get around to it, my King and my Elf Prince have finally tied the knot, and I know that I speak for everybody here when I say that we wish them, the longest, happiest and most loving life together.”

Spontaneous applause erupted, glasses were raised and toasts were drunk to their health, their happiness and their everlasting love. When the jovial atmosphere had settled down a bit, Billy stood up and tapped his glass for everybody’s attention. 

“I’ll keep it short, I promise,” he said in his lovely lilting Scottish voice. “But I just wanted to say, that Ali and I had a vile time trying to decide what to get these two for a wedding present. I was almost about to pay for the toaster we’d chosen for them, when I thought, Really? A toaster? How much use will they ever get out of that? I can’t see Vig using a toaster when he could trek up into the hills, build a fire with his bare hands and toast his bread on the end of a stick over it instead.” 

Everybody laughed and Viggo nodded sagely, agreeing that he was indeed more likely to do that than fling two pieces of bread into an electric pop-up.

“And Orlando, well he’d get even less use out of it, because he’s going to have to give up the carbs soon if he ever hopes to fit into Will Turner’s costume again.”

Orlando howled with laughter as he picked an olive pip off the side of his plate and flicked it at Billy. “You bastard,” he giggled. 

Viggo leaned across Orlando’s chair and ran his hand down Orlando’s stomach, resting it on his lower belly. “I happen to love his cute tummy,” he told Billy with a wink. 

“Nonsense, you love his cock,” Dom retorted. 

“Yes, that too,” Viggo agreed with a smile. Orlando clamped his hand over Viggo's before he got any ideas about sliding it lower and rubbing that favourite bit of his anatomy in front of everybody.

“So then we got to thinking,” Billy said, “It’s traditional at a wedding to have a first dance, a waltz usually, but I can’t see them doing that very well either, so instead, I have written a song for you, for this very special occasion that we’ve all been blessed to share with you, and I would be very honoured if you would have your first dance to it. And the rest of you can join in if you want to.” 

“Billy, that’s beautiful, thank you so much,” Orlando said. “Nothing would give us greater pleasure.”

It took a few minutes for the grand piano to be moved from the far side of the lounge to the sliding doors that led out to the pool deck, then Ali sat down at it and began to play. The melody was haunting and beautiful, and when Billy began to sing everybody got goose-bumps. Viggo held Orlando's hand and led him to the open area of the deck surrounded by candles and lanterns. They held each other close, Orlando’s head resting on his shoulder, Viggo’s cheek pressed to Orlando’s temple and they danced slowly as they listened to Billy’s exquisitely touching lyrics. Halfway through the song they were joined by other couples and pairs as they swayed gently under the starlit sky. 

They hugged Billy and kissed Ali when the song ended. Then Viggo, in his calm, soft-spoken voice, holding Orlando close to his side, said a few words. 

“We cannot express how thankful we both are to all of you for being here, to Ian for organising it and to Hugo for giving us this magnificent setting in which to celebrate the happiest day of our lives. There are simply not enough words or sentiments to tell you how we feel. All I can hope to convey to you is how very grateful we are for this gift you have given us; the gift of your time, the time you have taken off from your lives, your work, your schedules and your families to be here with us now. Time is the most precious thing that a human being possesses, it is the only thing that we have that is truly ours to give, and it is the only thing we have that is in utterly limited supply, so it is the one thing we must treasure and use most wisely. The fact that you have chosen to give us your time, your love, your presence here today, means more to us than you can ever know.”

Turning to look for his son, Viggo held his hand out to Henry, beckoning him over, and holding close to his other side. 

“To Orlando I say, I love you, I always have and always will. I thank you from the bottom of my heart to being crazy enough to fall in love with me, and brave enough to agree to spend the rest of your life with me. To my boy Henry, well son, what can I say? I owe everything to you. If you hadn’t talked me into taking the role of Aragorn, I would never have had the most profound experience of my life, I would never have met this wonderful group of people who I now call my family, and I would never have met the love of my life, who I am most proud to call my husband. For this Henry, I thank you. And for being here with me today, it means more to me than words can say.” 

Orlando was sniffing, trying desperately not to start crying. When Elijah called for him to make a speech, he simply shook his head and said he couldn’t possibly talk with his voice all breaky and squeaky as it was now. 

“I would just echo Vig’s words anyway,” he spluttered as the tears ran down his face and he tried to wipe them away with the back of his hands. “Damn it, I made a bet with Vig that he couldn’t make me cry, and now I owe him a hundred bucks. Oh God where’s Liv and her tissues when you need her?”

A hand appeared over his shoulder and he took the tissue it offered. 

“I think it’s time we really got this party started,” Beanie said, “Before we all end up sobbing wrecks like the prissy elf.” 

Ian had left that side of things up to Elijah, Dom and Sean Astin to arrange, and in a few moments the music was pumping, strobe lights were flashing and except for the fact that they were on a pool deck on the side of a cliff under the stars, they could have been in any nightclub in any city in the world. 

At five o'clock the next morning the laughter and dancing were still going strong, the candles had all burned out and only a few of the lanterns were still flickering. One or two people had been for a swim, clothes and all, and even Ian who usually left the crazy antics to the younger ones was outdoing himself on the dance floor much to the amusement of Elijah and Dom.

When he finally sat down on a lounger to catch his breath, he found Orlando flopping down beside him, snuggling close and giving him a slightly drunken kiss on the lips. 

“You’ve given me the very best day of my life, I love you for it.”

“I thought by now you would have snuck away to your bed with your lovely man,” Ian said. “It is your wedding night after all.”

“And I’m hardly the blushing virgin bride,” Orlando replied. 

“Well I hope you play at being one when he finally does get you between the sheets.”

“Nooo,” Orlando shook his tipsy head, “I’ll do coy and coquettish another time, tonight I just wanna be fucked hard.” 

Ian laughed with delight when Orlando blushed at giving away a little too much intimate information. “Where is that husband of yours anyway? I’ve been thinking about dragging everybody down to the beach to watch the sunrise just to give you two a bit of privacy. But I’m afraid if I say the words ‘hike’ and ‘sunrise’ in the same sentence Viggo will be the first in line to go.” 

Orlando agreed with a giggle, “He’s over there with Karl, they’re talking outdoorsy things, but actually, I think that’s a brilliant idea Ian. I think we should all go down to the beach and watch the sunrise. Come on, let’s do it,” 

Orlando got unsteadily to his feet, and pulled Ian up with him. They gathered everybody up, collected blankets while others piled leftovers from dinner into containers to take down with them. Someone brewed coffee and filled thermos flasks. They found their shoes and put on warmer clothes. Orlando found a hoodie in the lounge and pulled it on, then they all carefully picked their way down to the beach using flashlights to guide them. 

“You do know that we won’t see the sun come up?” Viggo pointed out when they were all settled on the sand looking out towards the horizon. “It set over the sea so it’s going to come up over the other side of the house.” 

It didn’t matter, because when dawn broke the colours that washed over the sky, bathing it in every hue of scarlet, peach and pink were spectacular. They sat huddled together, filling their plates with a makeshift breakfast of leftovers and blowing on mugs of hot coffee. 

“I’m wearing someone else’s clothes, I’m eating cold pasta for breakfast after pulling an all-nighter on the dance floor, now I really feel like I’m back in New Zealand,” Orlando declared. 

“Know what the best part is?” Sean Astin said, “After this we can just go back up to bed and sleep. No pre-dawn makeup call, no standing around at 5am waiting for hobbit-feet glue to dry, no fourteen hour day trekking up the side of a mountain in the pouring rain. This is heaven compared to back then.” 

They all laughed and agreed. 

Slowly, weary bodies made their way one by one back to the house to fall into bed and sleep. The private jet would be taking most of them back to LA that night, and the locals would be making their way back to Auckland in the afternoon. 

It had been a whirlwind trip, too short but too wonderful to have missed for anything. 

 

To be continued……


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT.

It was a tired and bleary-eyed group that clambered into the helicopters for their flight back to Wellington Airport that evening. Orlando and Viggo saw them off with mixed emotions; torn between the heartfelt tug of already missing them before the choppers had even taken off, and the giddy excitement of having the next two weeks alone together. Viggo held Henry for a long time before he let him get into the car with Peter and Fran. He was going to stay with them for a while and would be at Auckland airport to wave his father and Orlando off when they caught their flight back to LA in a fortnight.

“You done good lad,” Sean Bean said as he hugged them goodbye. “I’m not the one to be giving you marriage advice, so I’ll just say keep doing what you’ve always done; it seems to be working brilliantly for you.”

“Take care of each other,” Liv said as she kissed them farewell. “When you’re back home and settled give me a call and come over for Sunday brunch, okay?” She kissed each of them again, and pressed a small object into Viggo's hand.

“When is your flight?” Hugo asked after he’d hugged them both.

“Not this coming Monday, the one after,” Viggo told him. 

“Air New Zealand?”

Viggo nodded and watched Hugo take out his phone as he turned to go. He briefly heard the beginning of the conversation. “Craig? It’s Hugo, I’ve got a favour to ask….”

Dom approached them next and Orlando eyed him suspiciously. 

“I’ve seen that look on you before Dom, it usually means trouble. What are you up to?” 

“Nothing,” Dom smirked. “Just wondering how you’re going to enjoy the wedding present I’m giving you?” 

“Wedding present?” Viggo asked. ”What are you giving us?”

“The best bloody orgasm of your life,” Dom said blowing them a kiss and waving as he climbed into the helicopter. 

“That scares me,” Orlando admitted. “What did Liv give you?”

“The key to paradise,” Viggo said with a wink and opened his hand to show Orlando the key to the master bedroom suite.

Going back into the silent and empty house felt strange, their footsteps echoed as they walked up the stairs to the bedroom. Viggo unlocked the door and they peeked inside for the first time. The room was enormous, taking up the entire corner of the house. The two walls that looked out over the cliff and forest on one side, and the ocean at the front, were made entirely of sliding glass panels which could be folded back to open the room to the outside. Nearest the door was a small sitting area with a comfortable looking sofa and armchairs, and on the far side was the sleeping area overlooking the ocean. The bed was enormous, easily big enough to sleep four. The duvet had been neatly folded at the end of it and rose petals had been scattered over the sheets. Sitting on top of the folded duvet were beautifully wrapped gift boxes. Ian had said that they’d each left a wedding present and Orlando guessed those were them. 

On the wall opposite the sofa was a fireplace and above it a widescreen TV. Off to the side of the room was a door to the dressing room which led to the bathroom. Orlando looked inside and found a large shower with glass walls giving a view of the forest. He could imagine the fun they’d have in there, washing each other as they looked out over an infinity of greenery. There was also a large whirlpool bathtub, a double set of washbasins and the toilet was off to the side behind its own door. But back in the bedroom, it was the second bathtub that grabbed Orlando’s attention. A freestanding wide bowl of white stone, it stood at the edge of the bedroom where the glass walls folded away. It seemed to float in the air, perched on the edge of the jutting floor, hovering somewhere between the ocean and the horizon. 

There were already a few inches of water in the bathtub and the surface of the water was covered in red rose petals. Fluffy white towels hung neatly over a stand next to a glass table holding soaps and oils at the side of the tub.

“It looks like we’re supposed to start here,” Viggo smiled. 

Orlando agreed with a mischievous grin and ran the water to finish filling bath. He sniffed the bottles of oils and poured in the ones that he liked the scent of best. They undressed each other and settled in the warm, chest-deep water, rose petals sticking to their skin and the side of the tub. As he leaned back against Viggo's chest and felt strong arms slide around him in a protective embrace, Orlando sighed deeply. 

“Do you remember the first time you lay against me like this?” Viggo asked. 

“Yeah,” Orlando sighed again.

He remembered it well. It was shortly after he had broken his rib in a fall from his horse, Viggo had broken two toes the day before and Brett had injured his knees so badly that walking was agony. But instead of taking it easy, they were spending two days running across the mountaintops in some of the most spectacular scenery Orlando had ever seen, while a helicopter swooped and dipped and flew around them, filming the trio chasing down the Orcs who had kidnapped two of their Hobbit friends. 

During a break, they had found some shade and Brett had fallen asleep. Viggo, wanting to get off his feet had sat down against a boulder, but Orlando with his cracked rib making even breathing painful, couldn’t find a comfortable place to sit. Standing was sore, lying down even worse, especially as he had nothing soft and comfortable to lean against. 

“Tell Pete I want a pillow up here tomorrow,” he had said into the walkie-talkie they had with them to communicate with the crew at the base of the mountain. 

“Come, sit against me,” Viggo had told him, spreading his legs wide and making room for Orlando between them. 

Leaning back against Viggo’s chest was heaven. The pain in his rib eased as he let his body sag against the soft cushioning of the many layers of Aragorn’s costume. But even better than that was the comforting feel of Viggo's arms folding around him and the solid weight of his hand coming to rest on Orlando’s lower stomach. He had dropped his head back against Viggo's shoulder, and Viggo had shifted his hips to move the hilt of Aragorn’s sword that was digging uncomfortably into him. 

“Is that a sword in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Orlando had joked. 

It had hurt his rib when Viggo's chest moved as he laughed. 

“Just happy to see you,” Viggo had murmured against Orlando’s pointy elf ear, his hand rubbing a slow circle on Orlando’s stomach. 

His hand was doing the same thing now, rubbing Orlando’s belly slowly, moving down inch by inch until his fingers met the gently uncoiling shaft of Orli’s cock. 

“Do you know how much I wanted to do this to you that day up on the mountaintop?” he asked.

“Not as much as I wanted you to,” Orlando husked. “But I’m glad you didn’t. Running with a broken rib was bad enough; I wouldn’t have been able to do it with a hard-on too.”

“Yeah you would, I managed it.” 

“You had an erection after that?” Orlando giggled, this was the first he’d heard of it.

“I was hard before you even wriggled your cute ass up against me that afternoon. You have no idea what watching you running around in those tight leggings did to me.” 

Orlando was chuckling loudly now. “You have a costume fetish Vig. Every time you see me dressed in character you get turned on.” 

“Every time I see you, I get turned on , no matter what you’re wearing… or not wearing,” Viggo corrected him, and the nudge of his stiffening cock against Orlando’s lower back confirmed it.

They soaked in the warm, fragrant water, talking about the future, remembering the past, caressing each other all the time. Orlando twisted his head around seeking kisses, and Viggo let his hands roam all over his soft, smooth skin. His fingers played with Orlando’s nipples, drawing soft murmurs of pleasure from him. His sensitivity there was something Viggo had discovered early on and loved indulging in. 

Their fingertips were starting to prune when Viggo picked up a bar of soap and began to lather it all over Orlando’s body. Then he passed it over, and Orlando did the same to him. They had been careful not to touch each other too intimately, preferring to keep their arousal simmering gently. Both wanted this night to last as long as possible. 

They climbed out of the bath and dried themselves. With towels wrapped low around their hips, they moved to the bed, brushing off the rose petals that Liv had scattered there. Viggo kept touching Orlando’s face as they kissed, gazing into his eyes and thinking how happy and lucky he was. 

When he first walked onto the set of Rings, the last thing he had been looking for was a relationship with a man almost twenty years his junior. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without Orlando in it. He had watched him grow as an actor and as a person, from a young exuberant boy into a self-assured, sexy man. He had seen his career rise from that first big break in New Zealand to the block-busting series of Disney Pirate films that had shown off his beauty as well as his comedic talent. Orlando had climbed the ladder of fame from an unknown kid, straight out of drama school, to a household name. And Viggo couldn’t have been more proud of him, or more thrilled that he had been there to share every glorious moment of it, even if it had been in invisible silence, their love hidden from the public eye.

“What shall we unwrap first?” Viggo asked, his lips brushing against Orlando’s mouth. 

“Each other,” was Orlando’s reply, his hand plucking at the corner of towel that Viggo had tucked securely. 

“That’s the gift we save for last,” Viggo replied.

He sat on the bed and pulled the pile of presents closer, picking up the top one and handing it to Orlando who tugged the ribbon loose and pulled off the wrapping paper. From the shape and size of it he had guessed it was a CD. He wasn’t far wrong. It was from Fran and Peter, and inside the clear case was a DVD disc. PJ’s untidy handwriting was scrawled across silver surface - ‘ _Orli/Vig Wedding_ ’ together with the date. Underneath it he had written, ‘ _Our best work yet. Love Pete and Fran._ ’ 

PJ had filmed everything from the moment they arrived until they watched the sunrise on the beach. They were so used to seeing him with a video camera in his hand on set, either filming a rehearsal, or a behind-the-scenes vlog for the fans, that they hadn’t really taken much notice of him wandering around with it over the past two days.

When they watched the DVD later they would find that along with the lasting memory of their most special moments, he had also recorded each of their friends recalling anecdotes of the early days of their love and giving them heartfelt wishes for their future. 

“To me this is more special than the most expensive gift money can buy,” Viggo smiled. He loved that Peter had used his creative talent to give them something that they would treasure forever. 

And the director and his wife weren’t the only ones who had been creative in their gift giving. All of their friends had put their hearts, their thoughts and their love into the presents they had left behind. 

The next gift they opened looked identical to the first. Viggo unwrapped it and found another thin square case containing a CD, this one from Billy and Alison. They had recorded the song that Billy had written as their wedding gift, together with a few more of his compositions, all beautiful love songs that would bring warm memories and happy tears to their eyes when they listened to them. 

Orlando picked the next one from the pile and unwrapped a book from Sean and Christine. It was bound in a beautiful red leather cover which made them both smile. It was identical to the one that Bilbo and Frodo wrote in and had given to Sean’s character Sam at the end of the film. Orlando tentatively opened it and read the beautifully written calligraphy inscription on the first page. ‘ _An Elf’s Tale, And His Love for a King…. By Your Fellowship Friends._ ’

On each of the pages inside, Sean had asked everybody to write down their favourite memories of their time working on the film, and of Orlando and Viggo. They paged through them slowly, reading snippets here and there, smiling and laughing at events they had forgotten, and recalling things they would never forget. Some people had left little drawings in the corners of the pages, little cartoon characters playing out the scenes they had written about. Ian had made sketches of Aragorn and Legolas in their costumes, and written about what a joy it had been to watch them falling in love. 

The next gift was opened by Viggo, and it was the poem Henry had written for their ceremony. He had transcribed it on a sheet of handmade paper and framed it in an exquisite antique silver frame. Viggo’s fingers touched it gently as Orlando stretched over and kissed his cheek. 

“He gets his perfection from you, you know,” he told Viggo about his son. “That poem is the most beautiful and thoughtful gift anybody could have given us, and it’s just the sort of thing you would do too.” 

And it was. Orlando had lost count of the poems and songs Viggo had written for him. He kept them at home in the drawer next to his bed, some were on snippets of paper and some in notebooks. He often took them out and read them during the long, lonely separations they endured from each other. 

Cate’s gift was framed too, but hers was two photographs. One had been taken years ago on location. It showed both of them during a break; they were out on a hilltop somewhere, the wind lifting Orlando’s long blond elf hair off his shoulders and blowing it into his face. Viggo, with Aragorn’s beaten, calloused hands was gently brushing it away from his cheek. They were gazing at each other, ignoring everybody around them as if they didn’t exist. The tenderness of their smiles, the love in their eyes flowing across the narrow space between them was tangible. The second photograph was taken just the day before, on the beach during their ceremony. It showed them tenderly holding each other and sharing their first wedded kiss. She had decorated the entire frame with tiny white seashells that she had picked up on the beach and meticulously glued to the frame. On the back she had written, ‘ _This is the first moment that I saw your love for each other and knew what nobody else had realized yet._ ’  
And below it, ‘ _And this is the moment I’ve been waiting to see ever since then._ ’ 

From the size and shape of the next gift they picked up they guessed it was a book like the one Sean and Christine had given them. Unwrapping it they found a scrapbook from Elijah that he had filled with photographs of their fifteen months in New Zealand all those years ago. Some were taken on set, but most showed their free time surfing, playing, hanging out together; a group of friends having the adventure of their lives. There were photos of parties, of dinners out with the cast and crew, of barbeques at their houses in the summer and snowboarding in the mountains in the winter, of camping and fishing trips and of them getting their treasured fellowship tattoos. 

“Oh God, look how young we were,” Orlando said pointing to a couple of the pictures. “Look how skinny I was.” 

“Look at your silly hair,” Viggo laughed, tapping his finger on an image of Orlando sitting on a beach next to a surfboard, his strange pointed Mohawk bleached snow white. 

Orlando ignored him and turned the page to a series of photographs taken on one of the many camping trips the cast had gone on. There were photos of Viggo fishing and one of him holding the fish he’d caught. “God, you looked sexy, I couldn’t keep my hands off you that night, remember?”

Viggo chuckled and pulled Orlando closer, settling him against his chest. “I remember you yawning your head off as soon as we’d eaten and trying to convince everybody that they all needed to go to sleep early so we could get busy in that sleeping bag of yours.”

“Didn’t work though, they stayed up ‘til dawn telling ghost stories and you fell asleep before we could sneak off.” 

“But I made it up to you in the car on the way back.” 

“Yeah,” Orlando sighed as he remembered Viggo suddenly pulling over on their drive back out of the national park, and hauling him into the back seat for a good, robust bout of sex. 

“Which one next?” Viggo asked. There were four gifts left, two boxes and two envelopes. Orlando picked up on the envelopes and handed it to Viggo to open. 

It was from Sean Bean and there were three letters inside it, the first one from him. Viggo struggled to decipher his untidy writing as he read it out loud. ‘ _So what does one get for the men who already have everything?_ ’ he had written. Underneath it was the answer. ‘ _You give instead_.’

It was cryptic and intriguing. They unfolded the other two letters and found that as a wedding present to them, Sean had donated a substantial amount of money to each of their favourite charities in their name. Viggo’s to a horse rescue mission that he supported and did a lot of volunteer work for, and Orlando’s to a dog rescue centre that he supported with private donations of his own. Orlando read both letters from the charities again; his eyes widened at the amount Sean had donated on their behalf. He knew from the fundraising work he had done with them in the past that, that amount of money would keep them running for a long time before they had to dip into their other resources. The gift was heart-warming and uplifting, and like all the other gifts they had received so far, was meaningful in the most personal way to them.

The next box came from Hugo. In it were two crystal wineglasses and two bottles of Australian wine. There was a note tucked into one of the glasses. Viggo opened it and read it. 

‘ _Boys, I hope you enjoy these, they are two of my favourites. Drink a toast to yourselves as you share the Viognier on the balcony at sunset. The Shiraz would make a wonderful accompaniment to a fireside evening at Viggo’s ranch come winter time._  
My other gift to you is the use of this house whenever you feel the need to escape from the world for a while. Give me a call and I’ll make the necessary arrangements.   
Hugo xxx’

Orlando was already thinking of when they could clear some time in their crazy schedules to come back here again. And Viggo was planning a romantic interlude on a cold, crisp winter night, a glass of wine in his hand and a naked Orlando sprawled on a nest of cushions in front of a cracking log fire. 

“The envelope or the box next?” Viggo asked, looking at the last two gifts. 

“Envelope,” Orlando said, picking it up and opening it. He took out a pink card with scalloped edges and even before he’d read it he recognised Liv’s neat handwriting. 

_I wanted to give you something as unique and beautiful as the two of you are. Something that will last forever, as an eternal testament to the wonderful love you share. Although you will never see it, I hope that you enjoy knowing that it will be out there, carrying the memory of your love long after we are all gone and forgotten._  
All my love to you both,  
Liv  
XX 

“Sounds intriguing,” Viggo said as Orlando took a folded letter out of the envelope. 

“Bizarre might be a better word for it,” Orlando said, unfolding the letter and showing Viggo the letterhead which had NASA embossed across the top, together with the space agency’s distinctive red, white and blue logo. 

_Dear Sirs,  
It has been my great pleasure to have remained in contact with Ms. Tyler since working as a technical consultant on behalf of NASA on the film Armageddon, in which Ms. Tyler starred. And it is with even greater pleasure that I have been able to grant her request in the naming of a Comet in your honour. It is my privilege to inform you that Comet C/2014-T16 located just outside the Kuiper Belt within the orbit of Neptune, has officially been named “VIGORLI” in your honour. _

Attached to the letter was a graphic of the solar system showing the location of the area of space their comet was in. 

“She named a comet after us Vig,” Orlando said with wonder. “Every time we look up at the night sky now we’ll know that somewhere out there there’s great big chunk of rock and ice with our name on it.” 

Viggo wished Liv was still there. He was so touched by her unique and unusual gift that he just wanted to hug her. Instead, he hugged Orlando, pulling him tight to his chest, kissing the top of his head and burying his nose in those soft curls he loved so much. They lay together, holding each other in silence, listening to each other breathe. Orlando’s fingers strayed across Viggo’s chest, his mouth found the ridge of Viggo’s collar bone and he licked it, sucking on the soft flesh of his neck. 

“I want you Vig,” he whispered as he moved his head and kissed Viggo’s throat, feeling the thrumming of his pulse beneath his lips. 

Viggo slipped a finger under Orlando’s chin and lifted his head until their mouths met. He kissed him tenderly, running his tongue along Orlando’s lips which eagerly parted for him. 

“Last one and then I’m yours for the rest of the night,” Viggo smiled, pressing small, soft kisses to the corners of Orlando’s mouth before he sat up and placed the final gift box on Orlando’s lap. 

Orlando looked at it, his fingers hovering an inch from the lid, but neither touching it nor opening it. 

“What’s the matter?” Viggo asked. 

“It’s from Dom,” Orli replied, turning his head to look at Viggo. “I don’t trust it. He had a weird look on his face when he left here, and you know what he’s like; he’s probably put something in there that’s going to jump out at me the minute I take the lid off.” 

“I’ll do it,” Viggo laughed and took the box from Orlando. 

His fingers hesitated for just a second, then he pulled the bow loose and lifted the lid. Orlando leaned back, still convinced the gift would either explode or something would come shooting out of it. And it wouldn’t have been the first time if it did; Dominic was always pulling that prank. He’d done it years ago on the set of Rings, he’d caught almost every member of the cast, scaring the living daylights out of them. Orlando had fallen for it more than once. 

The lid came off, but nothing happened, except that Viggo burst out laughing. Curious, Orlando peered into the box to see what it was. 

“Oh my God, that is so typical of Dom,” he joined Viggo in laughter as he dipped his hand in and pulled out an assortment of sex toys, handcuffs, cock-rings, dildos, vibrators and small mini-sized bottles of lube. 

Viggo was rummaging around in the box too and his hand came out with a little tube of lubricant whose label proclaimed it to be tequila flavoured. He opened it and sniffed it, but it had no scent. Then with a grin, he plucked the corner of Orlando’s towel and pulled it open. Orlando fell back against the pillows, giggling in protest as Viggo squeezed the tube and drizzled it over his cock. With a smouldering look, Viggo dipped his head and licked all along Orlando’s length, tasting the silky liquid. It did indeed taste like tequila, and he lifted his head to kiss Orlando, sharing the flavour with him.

“This is going to be a very interesting night,” he grinned. 

“So it should be, it is our wedding night after all,” Orlando smiled as he began to rub his cock against Viggo’s, smearing the slippery, uniquely flavoured lube over him too. 

“Then let’s make it one to remember,” Viggo husked as he tossed their towels onto the floor and devoured Orlando’s mouth in a passionate kiss. 

 

To be continued……(wedding night sex. Yay!) ;)

[ ](http://photobucket.com/)


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE.

Orlando moaned into Viggo’s mouth, thrusting his tongue harder against his lover’s. It didn’t seem to matter how deeply or how passionately they kissed, it was never enough for him. He needed Viggo, craved him, wanted to devour him.

“Shall we choose something together or should I just put my hand in and pull something out?” Orlando asked with a grin when the kiss ended, and he noticed that Viggo had tugged the box of sex toys Dom had given them as a wedding gift closer. 

“Let’s have a look,” Viggo replied, delving into the box and picking up a butt plug. It had a smooth silicone feel and was bright purple in colour. Raising an eyebrow, he gave Orlando a questioning look. 

“No,” Orlando said, taking it from him and tossing it onto the nightstand. “I want your cock in me, not that thing.” 

“Anal beads?” Viggo asked, holding up a string of them. 

“Maybe.” 

Orlando took them and dropped them on the bed between their bodies. 

“These?” Viggo held up a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs. 

“Perhaps later, but right now I want my hands free to touch you all over.”

Viggo tossed them off the side of the bed onto the floor and watched Orlando rummage around in the box. What he came out with was something that Orlando didn’t recognise, but Viggo knew well. 

It was a long, very slim vibrator, just a little bit thicker than Viggo’s middle finger. It had a smooth metallic finish, was gold in colour and its flattened head was curved and angled like a spoon. Orlando twisted the base to turn it on and it buzzed softly. Viggo grinned and took it from him. 

“Lie back baby, you’re going to love this.”

Orlando was sceptical, it seemed such an insignificant thing, not nearly thick enough to give him the feeling of being stretched and filled that he loved so much, nor did the vibration seem like it would be strong enough to enjoy once it was inside him. But Viggo seemed excited by it and Orlando was curious to see what he was going to do with it. 

The first thing he did once Orlando was comfortably settled against the pillows, was lean down and give him a long, unhurried kiss while his fingers played with Orlando’s sensitive nipples. 

“Spread your legs for me,” Viggo murmured against Orlando’s ear, running his tongue along the rim of it. 

Orlando opened his legs. 

“Now lift your knees, open them wide.”

Orlando did it. It felt sexy and slutty opening himself to Viggo, and he loved it. He loved the lust in Viggo’s eyes even more when he moved down the bed and knelt between Orlando’s spread legs. Viggo had dragged two pillows down with him and he told Orlando to lift his hips as he slid them underneath his bottom. 

“Take deep breaths and relax,” Viggo said as he slicked the thin vibrator with lube and teased Orlando’s entrance with it, watching his involuntary shiver as the cold tip touched him. 

Between the silky lubricant and its smooth metallic surface, the toy slid easily in. Viggo caressed him with it, sliding it gently in then pulling it slowly back out, until just the tip was lodged inside him. He worked it in and out, letting Orlando’s body warm it while he enjoyed the sensation of being internally stroked by its glossy length. He could tell how nice it felt by the way Orlando’s eyelids fluttered closed and the corners of his lips lifted in a soft smile. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from warning Orlando what was coming next; he wanted it to be a shocking surprise. 

He angled the base of the vibrator so that its head pressed against Orlando’s inner walls. He knew the spot he was looking for and slowly began to manoeuvre the smooth shaft back and forth until the flattened, rounded head hit Orlando’s prostate. Viggo saw the way his body gave an involuntary twitch when he touched it and he slipped his finger over the button to turn it on, holding it steady, pressing gently against that sweet bundle of oversensitive nerves. 

“Fuuuckk!” Orlando half sat up, his body shuddering as the vibrator sprang to life against his hyper responsive prostate. “What the fuck is that?” he gasped, his toes digging into the mattress and his hands reaching out, trying to grab hold of Viggo. 

“That, my angel,” said Viggo with a feral smile as he pressed the palm of his hand to Orlando’s chest and eased him back down. “Is the exquisite sensation of a prostate massager.” 

“Holy fuck,” Orlando hissed, as Viggo nudged the buzzing head ever so gently against his insides, caressing the sensitive gland with it. He was clenching the sheets between his fingers and biting his bottom lip. Nothing had ever felt so good or so intense. Half of him was terrified that this wonderful new toy would break him, the other half couldn’t wait to be shattered into a million pieces. 

“Like it?” Viggo asked, thrilled by the effect it was having on Orlando. 

“I bloody love it,” Orlando grinned. His breath was already coming in fast gasps and his lips were swollen and red from the way his teeth worried at them. Viggo devoured them in a lusty kiss. 

“Close your eyes and empty your mind, try not to move your body, just lie there and feel.” 

Orlando did as he was told, he wasn’t sure he could do anything else. It was incredible. All he could hear was the faint buzzing of the toy and the rush of his pulse thumping in his ears. Viggo’s purring voice spoke to him but Orlando couldn’t make out the words, although he understood their soothing tone. His cock, which had been hard before, was as rigid as steel now. It felt like an electric pulse was shooting up his shaft, tingling and itchy. He became aware of a tight ball of pressure deep within him, it was like an air bubble rushing to the surface, pushing its way up the inside of his cock and gushing out of him. He opened his eyes and saw a steady stream of semen pouring from him, yet he wasn’t having an orgasm. This sensation was deeper, earthier, more intense. A climax usually felt like fireworks, his cock erupting in a shower of pure sensation, each pulse of his release like an explosion of unimaginable bliss. But this was one long, steady stream of ecstasy. He hovered on the brink of orgasm without being able to crash over the edge of it. His body started to shiver and shake, his legs shuddered as if his muscles were contracting in uncontrollable spasms. His back arched off the bed, the skin of his chest and neck flushed red with arousal and his forehead was slick with a sheen of sweat. 

“Oh God Viggo, oh God….” Orlando tried to find the words but his mind wasn’t capable of forming rational thought. “Need…. Viggo, oh God, need more, need you…”

Viggo knew what he wanted; he knew this moment would come. While he had been manipulating the massager against Orlando's prostate with one hand, he had been shoving two lubricated fingers into his own opening, preparing himself and stretching himself. Now he squeezed a puddle of lube onto Orlando’s cock and wrapped his fist around it, stroking gently to spread it. Orlando cried out at the sensation of it, his body twisting and twitching. 

“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you,” Viggo purred to sooth him. “We’re almost there, I’ll take care of it for you.” 

He raised himself up and straddled Orlando’s writhing body. He told Orlando to close his legs, to clamp them together and hold the maddening toy inside him. Orlando did it, whimpering as the feeling became even more intense. Guiding Orlando’s aching cock to his entrance Viggo sank down on it in one swift movement. He growled with lust as momentary discomfort was replaced by the familiar pleasure of having Orlando inside him. 

“Sweet mother of a whoring bitch!” Orlando yelled out as his cock was enveloped by Viggo’s hot, tight passage. He thought a lightning bolt had struck him and cleaved him in two. The upper half of his body shot up from the bed and he hit Viggo's chest with a force that took his breath away. He had to bite down hard on Viggo’s shoulder to stop himself from fainting. He tasted blood and heard Viggo’s voice cry out in both pleasure and pain. 

Viggo hugged him tightly for a moment, then eased him back down again. Sitting upright, impaled on Orlando’s cock, Viggo began to raise his body up and slam it down again. Nothing in the world felt as good as Orlando’s cock inside him, he loved nothing more, except perhaps the feel of his own cock inside Orlando. But right now he wouldn’t swap places for the world. The vibrations that were buzzing inside Orlando’s body were travelling through his erection and into Viggo. The feeling was exquisite. He loved the fact that they shared the sensation, feeling the toy as if it was in both of them at the same time. It made every plunge and thrust of his body more powerful and passionate.

He knew Orlando wouldn’t last long and he was right. His body had been overwhelmed and overstimulated. Orlando bucked up, trying to push himself back into Viggo every time Viggo lifted off him, then trying to desperately pull away every time Viggo slammed back down onto him, the angle of his hips forcing the massager to assault his prostate again. Viggo saw the beginnings of Orlando’s orgasm in the clench of his jaw and the tightening of his fists clawing at the sheets. He heard it in the low keening of his voice, and he felt it in the pulsing release of Orlando’s cock inside him. He had never seen, or felt, Orlando come that hard. His body jerked and arched off the bed so violently that he lifted Viggo up with him. Orlando cried out, a primal, animalistic sound echoing from deep in his throat before he collapsed back, a shivering and shuddering exhausted puddle of spent passion. His head thrashed from side to side, long strands of damp hair and wet curls sticking to his sweaty face. He was quiet for a moment then suddenly he was clawing at Viggo’s chest, his legs that he no longer had control over, bucking and kicking,

“Out, get it out!” he yelped. “Take it out Vig, it’s too much, I can’t….”

Viggo quickly reached behind him and pulled the still buzzing vibrator out of Orlando’s body. He lifted himself off Orlando’s spent cock, knowing the clenching tightness of being inside him would soon become too much for Orlando too. 

Orlando continued to twitch and judder uncontrollably. His body shook and shuddered involuntarily, he couldn’t have stilled his quivering muscles if he tried. He couldn’t speak; the only sound that came from his mouth was a long, low whimper. Then all of a sudden he began laughing and sobbing at the same time, his breath coming in shuddering gulps and hiccups. Viggo scooped him up and rolled them onto their sides, he held Orlando tight against his chest, rubbing his back to sooth him and twisting his fingers into the damp curls at the back of his neck. Finally Orlando stilled, his breathing slowed and he became quiet. Too quiet. Viggo shook him gently. He opened his eyes but they weren’t focused. 

“Orli? … Baby? Talk to me angel,” he said, gently tapping the side of Orlando’s face with two fingers. 

“I’m here,” Orlando finally said. “I’m fine. I’ve never experienced anything that intense before. I swear I saw heaven.” 

“You _are_ heaven,” Viggo said nuzzling his temple, grateful that Orlando had come back down safely. 

“Just hold me Vig. I want to hug you but I don’t have the energy to lift my arms.”

Viggo folded Orlando in a tight and loving embrace, kissing all down the side of his face and along his jaw. When their mouths met, their kiss was long and sensual. 

“That was fucking incredible,” Orlando giggled when he finally found his voice again. “Give me a moment to recover and I’m going to make you see stars too.”

He knew Viggo hadn’t come even before he felt the rigid tip of Viggo’s erection poking his hip. He needed to get control of his mind and his muscles again, and then he wanted Viggo to experience the same earth-shattering climax he just had. Dom hadn’t been kidding when he said he was going to give them the best orgasm of their lives as a wedding present. Orlando was already trying to think of a suitable way to thank him. 

After a few more minutes of being cuddled, Orlando was ready to take Viggo to heights he’d never imagined. His unsteady legs took him to the bathroom, where he cleaned himself up and brought a warm, wet cloth back to the bed to wash Viggo’s cock. He cleaned the vibrator, put a little bit more lube on it and slid it slowly into Viggo’s body, switching it on with a quiet click. Viggo was already sensitive inside from riding Orlando’s unyielding erection, and the pulsating toy soon had him seeing flashes of white sparks behind his eyelids. Orlando wanted Viggo to feel everything he had, to experience it just the way he had done, but the thought of impaling himself on Viggo when he was still so ultra-sensitive inside made his body start to shiver again, and the thought of Viggo's erection brushing up against his overstimulated prostate made him instinctively recoil. Instead he worked the vibrator with one hand while the other touched Viggo everywhere he could reach - scratching his stomach, pinching his nipples, stroking his armpits, all the while his mouth worked to give Viggo the best blow-job of his life. He swirled his tongue, he sucked, he licked, he bobbed his head slowly then faster. He carefully grazed heated flesh with the tips of his teeth. The combination of Orlando’s mouth and the vibrations inside him made Viggo cry out and kick his legs in pleasure. 

Just when Viggo didn’t think he could take any more, Orlando eased right off. He held Viggo gently in his mouth, without moving or licking or sucking. He pulled the toy away from his prostate and slowly slid it out of him until the scooped head of it was pressing gently against his entrance. Then Orlando moved it in slow, firm circles, rimming him with it. Viggo thought he might die from the pleasure of it. He tried to move but Orlando held him still. He begged, but Orlando silenced him with a kiss. He growled in frustration but Orlando only purred gently back at him. He was pushed to the brink and held there over and over again, until he thought he would go mad from it. Orlando was dominant yet playful. He teased as much as he tortured. Viggo loved it. He adored Orlando when he was loving and gentle, but there was something about him taking charge, exerting control over Viggo, denying pleasure as much as he granted it that drove Viggo wild. At times like these the loving warmth in Orlando’s eyes was replaced by something defiant and challenging, and Viggo relished seeing how far he could push him before Orlando reined him back in with a punishing pinch, a painfully arousing bite or an assertively stinging slap. 

He saw the challenge in Orlando’s eyes now and he rose to it. Bunching his fists in the back of Orlando’s hair, he pushed Orlando’s mouth back towards his cock. But Orlando was having none of it. Still stroking the vibrator against his entrance with one hand, he landed a tingling slap on the top of Viggo’s thigh with the other. Viggo groaned with pleasure. Taking that as a sign that Viggo wanted more, Orlando reached up and twisted one of Viggo’s nipples between his fingertips while he bit down on the other, nipping with the edge of his teeth, hurting him just enough to let Viggo know he meant business. 

Viggo adored Orlando, he loved him every moment of every day, but it was at times like this that he worshipped him. And Orlando knew it. He drew his nails slowly down Viggo's side, leaving a trail of soft red welts. Viggo hissed with pleasure. 

“Kiss me,” he demanded. 

Orlando answered with a snort of laughter. “No.”

“Please Orli, I need you,” Viggo pleaded. 

“And you’re going to get me,” Orlando replied, he nudged Viggo over, rolling him onto his stomach with his cock trapped between his belly and the bed under him. Viggo rocked his hips, rubbing himself against the sheet. Orlando watched with an approving glint in his eyes. 

“Spread them,” he said, bring a hand down on the back of each of Viggo’s thighs. 

Viggo opened his legs and Orlando spread his cheeks apart with one hand and continued teasing the massager against his hole with the other, mimicking the motions of a rimming tongue. Viggo whimpered his pleasure loudly. 

The orgasm he had been denied all evening tormented him as Orlando rubbed the pulsating toy against him. His body was screaming for release, he didn’t care if Orlando shoved it back into him or not, as long as he didn’t stop, as long as he finally allowed Viggo to come. But Orlando did stop, he pulled the vibrator away and Viggo howled in frustration. He heard Orlando’s delighted laughter, then he felt Orlando’s hand snaking underneath his body and he lifted his hips to give him access. Orlando’s fingers circled around the base of Viggo's weeping penis and gripped him firmly, staving off his orgasm yet again. It was cruel but worth it when he felt Orlando’s other hand pry his cheeks apart again and the searing heat of his tongue prod at Viggo’s hole. If Orlando's tightly encircling fingers hadn’t been stopping his climax, Viggo would have blown his load right there and then. Nothing made him explode faster than being rimmed. And nobody did it better than Orlando. He cried and whimpered, rearing up and pushing himself against Orlando's maddening mouth and tongue. 

Orlando had spoken of seeing heaven, but it was Viggo who was seeing it now, taken there by the sinfully talented mouth that was having its erotic way with him. He sometimes thought when it came to rimming, Orlando’s mouth should either be banned or licenced, he wasn’t sure which. And once again, just when Viggo thought it couldn’t get any better, Orlando pulled away and told him to turn over onto his back again. 

“You ready for this baby?” Orlando’s grin was wicked. All Viggo could do was nod as Orli pushed the vibrator back inside him and turned it on, pressing it against his prostate and rubbing it back and forth gently, tickling and stroking Viggo into oblivion. Then he took the tip of Viggo’s cock between his lips and kissed the head gently, before he swallowed the entire length of him down. 

Orlando had superb control over his gag reflex, it always amazed Viggo how easily he swallowed a cock down. Between the magnificent vibrations inside him and the sensational feel of his cock hitting the soft, spongy back of Orlando’s throat, Viggo was done for. He cried out a warning before his entire body tensed and contorted. Fireworks were going off behind his tightly shut eyelids. His climax hit him with all the force of a rocket launching into orbit. He ejaculated so hard it almost hurt. The pit of his stomach contracted and a lustful heat spread through his body. He clenched his jaw, grunting through gritted teeth as pulse after pulse of his release shot into Orlando’s mouth, powerful ropes of semen jetting down Orlando’s throat, eagerly swallowed.

He blacked out for a moment, then he heard Orlando’s voice calling his name softly. He opened his eyes and saw Orlando’s smiling face as he felt the vibrator being turned off and eased out of him. 

“You alright?” Orlando asked, pressing kiss after kiss to Viggo’s face. 

Viggo nodded, he could barely remember his own name let alone the words he needed to tell Orlando that he had never been better. When he regained control over his tongue he used it to give his new spouse a long, grateful kiss. 

“We owe Dominic big time,” he grinned and Orlando agreed.

They took a relaxing shower together, cleaning each other tenderly then climbed back into bed and snuggled close to each other. 

“That was incredible Vig, thank you,” Orlando murmured sleepily against his chest. 

“Ready for round two?” Viggo teased. 

“God no, I first have to learn to walk again,” Orlando giggled. He was sure he would feel it in the morning and would be walking funny for most of the next day. They both would. He grinned at the thought, but he needn’t have worried about how he would walk, because they would spend the entire of the next day in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms and playing with the rest of the goodies in Dom’s box of toys. 

But for now, Orlando was content to simply lie in his new husband’s embrace and fall asleep. He wondered if he’d ever get used to how wonderful it was to be able to call Viggo more than just his lover. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled again through sleep-slack lips. 

“You already said that,” Viggo smiled drowsily, kissing the top of Orlando’s head and turning the bedside lamp off. 

“No, not just for the incredible sex, for everything,” Orlando whispered. “Thank you for this, for New Zealand, for marrying me, for loving me, for wanting to spend the rest of your life with me.” 

“And I thank you for exactly the same things,” Viggo replied softly. 

“I love you,” Orlando exhaled the words against Viggo’s chest. 

“I love you too baby,” was the last thing he heard as he drifted off to sleep, secure in the arms of the man he adored. 

 

To be continued….


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Over the next week their days fell into an easy, relaxed routine. After breakfast they would stroll out onto the balcony, Viggo with his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, Orlando with a cup of tea. It was a peaceful, contemplative start to the day and something they enjoyed doing. Each day the view was different; the sky was never quite the same shade of blue and the mood of the ocean was constantly changing. Viggo loved it; it was like looking at a variation of the same painting every day. They never quite knew what they were going to get until they stepped out and gazed at it from their vantage point on the cliff. What he loved most about their morning routine was sharing the pleasure of witnessing nature’s splendour with Orlando at his side. But even Viggo had to admit that Orlando’s naked glory often outshone Mother Nature’s.

Sometimes they sat in companionable silence and simply gazed at the view, but mostly they stood together at the railing, looking out to the distant horizon over the sea. As the sun warmed their naked skin Viggo would feel his own body’s heat rising too. It was hard not to touch Orlando in some way, and it was an indulgence that he never denied himself. 

Often he stood pressed close to Orlando’s back as they leaned against the rail, his soft cock nestled in the cleft of Orlando’s bottom, his nose buried in Orli’s hair, breathing in the comfortingly familiar scent of him. Occasionally they stood side by side, Viggo's arm wrapped protective around Orlando’s waist, his head turning now and again to graze his lips along the side of Orlando’s neck as they chatted. Once or twice they had held each other, their arms wrapped in a hug, Orlando’s head resting on his shoulder, their chests, stomachs and cocks fitting perfectly together. 

Today, Orlando lounged against the rail, pressing the small of his back against it, looking towards the house. Viggo stood at his side facing the sea, his arm touching Orlando’s as they chatted about the waterfall they had seen further up the trail behind the house when they went exploring the day before. As they talked he let his hand slowly slide across the front of Orlando’s thigh. Curling a finger upwards he gently touched the underside of Orlando’s flaccid cock. It wasn’t a consciously sexual touch, just a gentle caress by a fingertip, the same that he might have given to the back of Orlando’s hand if they had been sitting across the dinner table from each other, or to his arm if they were lounging together by the pool. He moved his finger unhurriedly, rubbing small, slow circles on the sensitive ridge just under the head of Orlando’s penis. His skin was as soft as silk and Viggo stroked lightly, giving him ticklish, soft caresses. 

The conversation turned from talk of the waterfall to the inspiration Viggo had for a new collection of photographs. His camera had accompanied them on all their walks, whether to the beach, along the rocky cliff or into the dark green depths of the forest. He told Orlando that he wanted to publish a companion set to the ones he had exhibited after their first time in New Zealand; the “ _Lost_ ” collection, the ones that documented their disoriented adventure in the rainforest, but this exhibition he wanted to call “ _Found_ ”. 

“Because that’s how I feel now Orli,” Viggo had said the first time he told Orlando about it. “I feel ‘ _found_ ’ I feel like I’ve found my place in the world at your side, I feel like I’ve found the person I’m supposed to be with.”

They talked some more about it now, Orlando listening to Viggo's ideas with interest, all the while, Viggo's fingertip still gently tickling and caressing tiny circles on the underside of his cock. 

“I’m thinking of shooting these in vibrant colour to contrast with the black and white of the ‘Lost’ set,” Viggo said, his finger gradually starting to trace a line up and down the skin underneath Orlando’s shaft, and as he did it, he felt a tiny, unconscious shift in Orlando’s hips as he tilted them into the gentle caresses. 

Keeping his touch light and slow, he let his fingertip wander up and down, and heard Orlando’s breath becoming faster and deeper. He watched him take a long swallow from his teacup, and felt the lazy weight of his cock against his finger. Carefully he increased the pressure, letting the soft pad of his fingertip drag against Orlando’s foreskin, moving it slowly back and forth. Orlando exhaled a contented sigh. 

“Oh look Orli, dolphins,” Viggo shaded his eyes with one hand, the other still continuing its teasingly gentle play. 

Orlando turned his head and looked over his shoulder to where Viggo pointed. He watched the small pod of Bottlenoses frolicking and playing in the surf. 

“They’ve got little ones with them Vig, look at the babies,” he said, smiling as he watched the two small dolphins break from the water and splash back down into it, dutifully surrounded and protected by the adults.

These weren’t the first of the gentle sea-creatures they had seen during their stay. On the first morning they had ventured out of their marriage-bed, they had walked down to the beach and seen them swimming just beyond the breakers. Viggo had his camera with him and had snapped some amazing shots of the magnificent creatures as the leapt out of the waves with twisting turns of their sleek, grey bodies. 

“I envy them living here in this paradise, never having to go home to the real world,” Orlando sighed. 

Viggo nodded in agreement and kept dragging his finger back and forth underneath Orlando’s cock. 

“Mmmm Vig, that feels lovely.” 

Viggo didn’t need Orlando’s words to tell him how good it felt, he could see it in the heightened pink flush of his cheeks, and feel it in the increasing weight of his shaft as it began to slowly stiffen and lengthen. He leaned in and gave Orlando’s mouth a feather-light kiss. The effect he was having on Orli’s body was turning him on too but he didn’t want to rush it, he wanted to let their arousal happen at its own pace. 

They watched the dolphins as they moved up the coast, until they were nothing more than occasional splashes in the water. By then Orlando’s erection had blossomed to its full length and Viggo had created a circle with his forefinger and thumb, sliding it on and off Orlando’s sensitive tip, feeling the wet slickness that was starting to seep out of him. 

“I thought we might walk back up the waterfall today,” Viggo said dreamily as he continued letting his fingers play and brushed the palm of his hand across the head of Orlando’s arousal. 

“Come here baby,” Orlando snaked his arms around Viggo's body, turning him until they were pressed tightly together, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, his cock sliding up, trapped against Viggo's belly. “I’d like that, but let’s do it later. Right now the only place I want to be is inside you.” He ran his hands down Viggo's back and between his cheeks, pressing a fingertip to his tightly puckered entrance. 

Viggo gave him a languid, seductive smile. “Should we go inside to the sofa, or do you want to take this to a lounger by the pool?”

“I think I’d like to take it back up to the bedroom,” Orlando said, kissing him deeply. 

They laced their fingers together and walked hand in hand upstairs. Orlando arranged the pillows so that Viggo could lie back and still look out at the beautiful view they had been admiring downstairs. He settled himself between Viggo's spread legs and gently sucked him while he inserted two lubricated fingers into him, slowly stretching and preparing him. 

When he entered Viggo's body, Orlando’s thrusts were deliberately slow and deep. He used gentle scoops of his hips to rub the tip of his cock against Viggo's prostate, sending quivers of intense sensation through him. Their lovemaking was leisurely and unhurried, a gradual building of pleasure, a tender declaration of love rather than an energetic pursuit of orgasm. They had been wild and lustful the previous night. They had groped, shoved and grappled their way from position to position, flinging themselves all over the bed. At one point even tumbling right off the side and onto the floor. Orlando had landed hard on his back - it had hurt, but not enough to stop. They had licked, nipped and sucked their way to more than one shuddering climax. When they eventually fell asleep their bodies were slick with sweat and painted with the remnants of their release. That morning in the shower their muscles had ached, and their skin had been marked with the red remains of ardent bites and scratches. 

But now, with their passion slaked by a night of lust, they enjoyed a leisurely reunion filled with caring tenderness and love. Orlando enjoyed taking Viggo on his back like this with Viggo’s legs wrapped around his waist. The position gave him a sense of connection and intimacy, and he loved being able to see the changing expressions of Viggo’s face. Watching his eyelids flutter closed, he felt the lift of Viggo’s hips as he pushed up to meet Orlando's smooth plunges into him. Leaning forward he folded himself over Viggo’s body and kissed him. As their tongues played, his hand slid under the pillow and his fingers came into contact with the slim length of the prostate massager they had played with the night before. It had become a favourite of theirs during their stay and he moaned softly as his tongue finished its conquest of Viggo's mouth. Pushing himself up, his hips keeping up their rhythmic thrusts, his cock stroking in and out of Viggo's grasping channel, Orlando turned the vibrating toy to its lowest setting and touched it to Viggo's erection which lay rigid against his belly. He used the softest, barely-there caresses to run the toy along the length of Viggo's aching shaft, stroking its buzzing tip across the slick head of Viggo's cock. He grinned when he felt the answering shudder in Viggo’s body as he leaked more clear fluid into his bellybutton and his internal muscles clenched more tightly around Orlando’s penetrating erection. When Viggo started writhing underneath him, the sight of it almost undid Orlando and he had to fight his own body for control. It brought a lump to his throat when Viggo's eyes opened and he found himself staring into their sapphire depths, drinking in all the love he saw reflected there. 

“You are so perfect,” Viggo husked, gazing up, watching Orlando’s body rock and his hips rotate on each inward plunge to give him as much pleasure as possible. His eyes closed again as he abandoned himself to bliss. He was so close to climax when Orlando took the vibrator away from his cock that he whimpered loudly in frustration. 

“Ssshh baby, I’m going to take care of it for you,” Orlando purred.

His fingers scrabbled behind him for the bottle of lube he had abandoned earlier. He drizzled it along Viggo's length as he lowered himself to kiss him again with increasingly hungry passion. Supporting himself on one elbow, he slid the other hand between their bodies and curled his fingers around Viggo's erection, jacking him with increasing speed to match his own rapidly quickening thrusts. 

He felt Viggo come first, warm semen flooding over his fingers as his own cock was massaged by the pulsating clench and release of Viggo’s internal muscles. It was enough to send him hurtling into his own climax. It ripped through him, sending quivers of pleasure through his body as he shot streamers of creamy passion deep into Viggo. He collapsed onto his chest, received by strong, loving arms as he breathed deeply against Viggo's sweat-slick neck. The kisses that followed were slow and gentle with soft, unhurried caresses of their tongues. He tried to lift himself up but Viggo pulled him back and hugged him tightly. 

They stayed like that for a while, slowly coming back down, then they rolled onto their sides, their arms holding each other and their lips still meeting for occasional kisses. 

“Bath, or shower, before we go out and find our waterfall?” Orlando asked softly. 

“Nice long soak in the bath and a little nap, then we’ll go.” Viggo told him. 

The warm water felt so good as they eased themselves down into it, Orlando resting against the end of the bath and Viggo reclining against his chest. He loved moments like this when he could take care of Viggo, to hold him and wash him, to show him how much he was loved. 

Afterwards, back in their bed, Orlando thought he would fall asleep easily, but instead he found himself lying awake and listening to Viggo’s even, rhythmic breath as he succumbed to peaceful slumber. He forced his eyes to close, but sleep did not claim him. Giving up, he sat up, plumped the pillows behind him and picked up his book from the nightstand. But he couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t lose himself in the words like he usually did. So he turned his head and simply watched Viggo sleep instead. 

He looked so beautiful and peaceful lying on his back, his head turned to the side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other resting on his stomach, the sheet covering him from the waist down. Orlando thought he looked more sexy and erotic like that than if his nakedness had been completely exposed. He traced his fingertip along the Elvish “Nine” tattoo on Viggo’s arm that he and the other members of The Fellowship shared. His own was on the inside of his wrist. He wondered if they should get another one, just for the two of them, a permanently inked reminder of the beautiful day that they had married and made their love official. He thought they should, and he knew Viggo would agree. 

His hands itched to touch Viggo but he didn’t want to wake him, so he let his gaze flow over every inch of Viggo's skin instead. He studied Viggo’s face, loving the sight of the lines that creased the corners of his eyes, the tiny nick of a scar on his cheekbone and the deep dimple in his chin. He looked at Viggo's lips knowing how much pleasure they were capable of delivering with soft kisses and tender nuzzles. Behind closed lids were eyes that could stare at Orlando with an intensity that made him shiver. His gaze drifted down Viggo's arms, recalling how tenderly they could hold him. 

Orlando slid down in the bed, laying his head next to Viggo’s on the pillow and carefully pulled his hand out from under it, cradling it in his own. He loved Viggo's hands, they were rough and calloused at times, but they always touched him with the most tender, gentlest care. He knew those hands in all their moods and forms – when they grabbed passionately at him, when they slid into his body and prepared him for sex with loving care, and when they cupped his face in the softest of gestures. He glanced down at the ring he had put on Viggo’s finger and then looked at the one on his own hand. He wondered what would happen when they got back to life in LA with photographers snapping their every move, and journalists pointedly asking questions about new shiny rings. The thought had crossed his mind that they might have to take them off and only wear them when they were alone together. It wasn’t something he was very happy about doing, so for the moment, he pushed the thought out of his mind. 

A soft murmur and the twitch of a dream under his eyelids drew Orlando’s gaze back to Viggo's face. He lifted a finger and smoothed the crease of his brow, then touched the crinkles of his crow’s-feet. He sometimes teasingly called Viggo ‘Old Man’ but in truth Orlando didn’t really see their age difference. He didn’t notice the threads of silver in Viggo’s hair at his temples or the wrinkles on his skin. 

When they first fell in love, Orlando was just about to turn twenty-three, Viggo had just turned forty-one. The age difference didn’t bother Orlando, he simply saw Viggo as older, wiser, more experienced at life, someone he could learn a lot from. But the chasm of years that separated them had worried Viggo a lot. 

In the early days of filming Viggo became good friends with Sean Bean. Their characters had a lot of screen time together so they worked together on set a lot. They had much in common outside of the movie too; they were the same age, separated by only a few months. They were both fathers far from home and missing their kids, they had both been married and divorced, Sean just about to go through another one, while Viggo found himself possibly facing the start of a new and unexpected romance. 

They hung out after work, sometimes with the rest of the cast and sometimes just the two of them sitting in a pub and chatting over a few beers. The things they shared in common brought them closer, while the differences in their interests added to the flavour of their conversations. Viggo's related to art and creativity, Sean’s to sports and in particular his favourite football team. 

Over time, as well as a few drinks and laughs, they started to share their problems and worries. Viggo supported Sean through the messy breakup of his marriage and the minefield of alimony and custody agreements. Sean in turn listened to Viggo’s concerns about where his feelings for their young co-star were leading him. 

Viggo's interest in men had surprised Sean but didn’t bother him in the least. In his youth he’d experienced his own attraction to the male gender, just not enough to really want to do anything about it. 

“I’d say go for it,” Sean had told him one evening over a drink when Viggo had voiced his concerns about his desire to take Orlando away on an overnight camping trip.

“I don’t want to step on any toes though,” Viggo had replied. “I might be completely wrong but it looks like Ian’s already staked a claim and I’m not interested in getting in the way of something that’s already happening.”

“It’s not happening, I asked him,” Sean had told Viggo. 

“What?”

“I was curious, I’m a Northerner, I’ve got no tact,” Sean joked. 

An easy camaraderie had developed between the British actors; Ian lovingly called Sean tactless for his straightforward way of saying exactly what he thought no matter who got upset or insulted. Orlando called him a Northern Bastard, and in return Sean called Orlando a Soft Southerner and a prissy Elf. 

In the end the camping trip had been a success but not in the way Viggo had hoped. As well as Orlando, other cast members tagged along too. Miranda Otto had come and so did Bernie and Karl, together with half the make-up and camera crew and a couple of stunt doubles as well.

They had laid their sleeping bags out under the stars, Viggo's next to Orlando's but with a good foot of space between them. When Viggo woke up at dawn, long before the others, he found Orlando had wriggled closer during the night and was now snuggled up against his back, his nose pressed to the nape of Viggo's neck. This together with their lingering glances and flirtations the night before had made it clear that Orlando was definitely interested, but instead of encouraging his affections it had only served to worry Viggo even more. At forty-one Viggo was hardly old, and at twenty-three Orlando was an adult, but there were still eighteen years between them.

“It’s a huge difference Sean,” Viggo had said during the lunch break on the day they filmed Boromir’s death scene. “I was already grown up when he was a baby. If I was living in England, I could have legally driven a car, voted and been served alcohol when he was just being born.” 

The thought had unsettled Viggo but Sean had seen the funny side and found the whole thing very amusing.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I’ve always been older than my wives,” Sean said.

“But not by that much,” Viggo insisted. “Technically I’m old enough to be his father.” 

“You’ll feel right at home then when he yells out ‘ride me daddy’ when you fuck him,” Sean had laughed.

Viggo had laughed too, so much that tears had run down his cheeks and the makeup lady had to come and reapply all the sweat and dirt that he’d wiped off his face. 

“You’re a sick, sick bastard Beanie,” he’d said, still chuckling as they took their places in front of the cameras for Boromir’s final moments. 

He’d had to focus on a spot next to Sean’s ear throughout his entire speech just to keep from looking at him and starting to giggle again. And when Boromir took his final breath and Aragorn, distraught at his loss, had leaned forward to kiss him farewell, Sean had whispered, just as Viggo's lips touched his forehead, “Who’s ya daddy?” and Viggo had roared with laughter and rolled off him with tears streaming down his face again. Whether it was the way Sean had said it, or the way it just lifted the suffocating atmosphere of a very intense death scene, he didn’t know, but either way neither of them could stop laughing. 

It was the only time during the entire project that they saw PJ utterly lose his temper. It might have been because it was the end of a long, difficult week, or maybe it was because they were so pressed for time to try and shoot all the scenes they needed to do before Sean had to fly back to England for a couple of weeks to deal with his divorce, but Peter’s sense of humour failed him that afternoon and he thundered onto the set, eyes blazing and arms waving. 

“CUT! What the fuck Sean! You’ve got three arrows in your chest, you’re about to die, two of your Hobbits have been taken, you don’t know if Frodo is alive or dead, you’ve let the goddamn Fellowship down… what in the hell have you got to laugh about? And Viggo! I don’t even know where to start with you! Everybody take ten minutes, get your heads together and when I call action again there will be no buggering around! And will somebody please pull a goddamn comb through Legolas’ hair. Elves are supposed to be pristine and spotless, this one looks like he’s been pulled through a bush backwards.”

The next take was perfection. They pulled themselves together, Boromir’s death was heart-wrenchingly tragic and Aragorn cried real tears. It was only much later that Viggo had told Orlando what had happened that day. He’d laughed, seeing the humour in it, but in all the years he and Viggo had been together he’d never once called him ‘daddy’ in bed, and he doubted he ever would. It was just something he’d never wanted, nor felt the need, to do. 

Settled next to him now, he watched him sleep, memorising every contour of his face and body. He managed to doze for a while and when he opened his eyes the bedside clock said two hours had passed. He got up quietly and went down to the kitchen, made sandwiches and put them in a backpack with two bottles of water from the fridge and his camera, then he went back upstairs to wake Viggo. 

“Hey baby,” he said shaking him gently until his eyes opened. “The light is perfect right now, let’s go and find that waterfall.” 

Viggo was impressed with Orlando’s eye for the light, and the photographs he took that afternoon were some of the best of their entire honeymoon. 

When they got back to the house it was late afternoon and they were hot and sweaty from their hike. They stripped off and jumped in the pool, swimming and playing for a long time, their bodies floating together until Orlando took Viggo's hand and led him to a lounger. 

“On your stomach baby,” he smiled. 

Viggo lay down and Orlando disappeared into the house, coming back with a cushion which he slid beneath Viggo to raise his hips. Straddling the back of Viggo's legs, Orlando lovingly caressed his ass and gently eased his cheeks apart then got to work with his eager, sinfully talented tongue. 

Viggo happily surrendered. If he had one indulgence, one guilty pleasure, it was this. He’d been twenty the first time he’d been rimmed. The guy had been a casual summer fling that had turned into a two year relationship. His lover hadn’t been crazy about performing the act, but he liked Viggo enough to occasionally treat him to it. Later when Viggo married, his wife had refused to do it. As adventurous as she was in bed, that was one line she wasn’t prepared to cross. But Orlando with his adventurous spirit had been prepared to try anything at least once. The first time they talked about it they were on one of Viggo's hiking expeditions. They’d had the afternoon off, a technical glitch with a camera that hadn’t been properly in focus meant that some of interior Edoras scenes had to be reshot, but not the ones Aragorn or Legolas were in, so they drove out of town and hiked along the riverbank. Viggo had fished and Orlando had read his book. Before they went back, they’d climbed a hill and watched the sun go down. Lying on the ground next to Viggo, staring up at the sky Orlando had asked, “What’s your favourite kink?” 

The question was unexpected and Viggo hadn’t been sure if Orlando was being serious or not. He answered with the truth but in a light-hearted way that could be taken as a joke if Orlando was playing around. 

“I go wild when someone sticks their tongue up my ass,” he had said. 

Orlando hadn’t said anything in response at the time, but after they had become lovers, the subject came up again and Orlando asked if he had been serious. When Viggo admitted that he had been, Orlando had looked him straight in the eye and asked, “Can I try it?” 

He hadn’t expected much - at best, Orli would politely say it wasn’t really his cup of tea, at worst, he’d be repulsed and that would be the end of that. But half an hour later Viggo had been out of his mind with lust and Orlando was showing no sign of stopping or even slowing down. Ever since then, Orlando had regularly indulged him in his favourite treat, and occasionally even accepted the favour in return, although Viggo knew that Orlando much preferred to have his cock sucked instead. 

“Up on your hands and knees for me,” he said now, and Viggo pushed himself up. Orlando reached underneath him, stroking his cock while his tongue pushed deeper into Viggo's hole. He gave Viggo a shuddering climax before they both collapsed onto the lounger finally sated after a wonderful day of making love, exploring the forest and taking photographs. 

After a shower, Viggo cooked dinner and Orli threw together a salad to go with their meal. They spent the rest of the evening in the lounge, Viggo sitting on the end of the sofa, Orlando stretched out along its length, using Viggo's lap as a pillow while he played with his phone, checking emails and texting friends back home. 

“There’s a message here from Fran,” he said, tiling this head back to look up at Viggo’s upside-down face. “She said if we want to go up to Auckland for the weekend before we fly out we’d be welcome to stay with them.”

“She’s trying to integrate us back into civilization slowly to ease the shock of landing back in the real world again,” Viggo chuckled. He had grown so used to the isolation and peaceful seclusion of their cliff-top house that heading back to the insanity of Los Angeles was going to be a culture shock he wasn’t looking forward to. 

“I think we should go,” Orlando said, “’I’ve always wanted to see Auckland and we could spend some time with Henry too. It’ll be fun.” 

Viggo looked down at him and ran his thumb over Orlando’s lips. He felt a twinge of emotion in his chest. He knew Orlando was fibbing, he’d been to Auckland before, he’d seen the sights, he’d even done the bungee jump off the Sky Tower. This wasn’t about Orlando’s desire to see the city, this was about Orlando offering to give up the last few days of their honeymoon so that Viggo could spend some precious time with his son before they went home. 

“You…” he said, running his hand down Orlando’s stomach and inserting it under the hem of his t-shirt, then sliding it back up to rest over his heart. “You are pure perfection.” 

To be continued…..


End file.
